


Prophecies of an Angel

by Dragoniz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoniz/pseuds/Dragoniz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a prophet has a vision of Lucifer's escape from the cage, she's forced to aid him in his quest to reclaim his lost grace.</p><p> </p><p>Lucifer/Reader<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Angels and Men

_Beep!_

You scowled at the sound. Another annoyingly loud and obnoxious beep sounded from the next room. You shouted an irritated, "Alright, I hear you!" and got up lazily from the couch with a yawn. You jogged into the kitchen before it could sound again and hit the "cancel" button on the coffeemaker. You muttered to yourself in exasperation about how an eighty dollar coffeemaker could be just as bad as your old shitty yard sale one. Not only did you manage to burn yourself with scalding liquid as you poured yourself a cup, but the stupid  _beep!_ sounded again. You unplugged the thing and rolled your eyes at the thought of how great your morning was going so far.

Just as you lifted the cup to your lips, the feeling of a car crashing into the side of your skull caused you to hesitate. Your brain pounded and images of strangers flashed into your brain.

_A woman with short gray hair clutched a book -- that looked almost as ancient as her -- to her chest. She stepped slowly into the center of an open field. Suddenly she held the book high above her head and chanted something: First in Latin, then repeated in Enochian. She hurtled the book at the ground with such force that it dug itself into the dirt at the spine._

_With swift movements the woman, who was obviously a witch, pulled a knife from her dress pocket and willingly stabbed herself in the heart. Another few words were whispered from her mouth (which could not be heard) and she slowly fell face-first onto the book with both hands clenched around the dagger._

_Just before she reached the ground it opened into a huge black hole. Her limbs flailed and her blood spilled as she spiraled into the abyss._

The mug you'd been holding shattered to the floor. You took a moment to catch your breath. It'd been a while -- almost two years since you'd had a vision that vivid. As usual, you had no idea who the person you'd envisioned was or what she'd been trying to do.

Usually when you had such intense visions you tried to take a moment to figure them out. Today, however, your head was still throbbing even though it was over. Your worry for your brain's well-being clouded your thoughts. After a moment or two you decided it best to shrug it off and welcome yourself back into reality. You bent over to pick up some of the larger pieces of the dark indigo mug. 

Almost as soon as your hand touched the biggest piece, your head throbbed again suddenly and a familiar field clouded your sight.

_It was obvious that this was the exact place the witch had died. It wasn't apparent how long after the fact that what you were seeing was happening (maybe seconds, maybe years). A man stood from the grass as if he'd been sitting there for a long time. He stretched and brushed the dirt from his clothing, then gave a devious smile._

_The man was clearly more than a man, but the vision was fading in and out too much for it to be told what he truly was. He placed his hands on his hips, as if in triumph, and suddenly widened his eyes. His smile faded. He whipped his head around as if in search of something, then yelled in anger. The yell was so loud that it blocked out the rest of your senses and the vision faded._

"Son of a  _bitch._ " You cursed, lifting your hand from the ground and examining the deep gash the piece of mug had left in your palm.

Thankful, but still wary, that the traumatic feeling in your head had stopped, you quickly ran water over the cut and covered it with a dishrag. You glared at the broken mug and spilt coffee on the floor. Instead of trying to pick up the pieces again you grabbed the vacuum from the hall closet and sucked up everything you could. You then tossed a towel onto the floor and told yourself you'd deal with it later.

As you sat down at the kitchen table, your mind wandered back to the visions. Who had those people been? What were they doing in a field? What was with the giant gaping hole? _  
_

Normally seeing things like that didn't bother you, but for some reason those last two were really getting to you. Somehow it felt as if they were two of the more important things you'd ever witnessed, but you weren't sure in what ways or why.

As if you didn't have enough problems stacking up, a loud few knocks came from the front door. You got up from the table with a frown and took your time getting to the door to greet whoever stood there.

Two large, intimidating men stared down at you. You furrowed your brow, "Uh, hi there. I'm gonna take a guess and say you two aren't clients?"

They shared a confused glance. The taller one shrugged and then looked at you with a sweet smile, "Er, no...I don't think so."

You raised a brow, prompting him to go on. He cleared his throat, "Okay listen. I'm pretty sure I was here in the last year and I need to know why."

You were so confused you almost thought he was joking. How could you remember a client from a year ago? But it didn't take long for his face to hop into place in your memories.

You widened your eyes and glared, resisting the urge to spit in his direction, "You  _ass._ You have the nerve to come back here after what you did?" He looked completely appalled. You sneered and reached for the door so that you could slam it shut after making your point, "Don't play dumb. Get out of here before I call the cops."

His expression was completely taken aback. The shorter one stopped the door with his foot and looked at you with surprise, "Hey, whoa! What'd he do? Honestly, that's all we need to know."

Before you could reply, the taller one (whose name you now recalled as Sam) pushed the door open and stared down at your arm, "Wait, are you hurt? That doesn't look too good."

You glared down at the rag in your hand and realized the blood from your gash had soaked through and was now dripping heartily onto the polished floor. You cursed in exasperation and then said bitterly, "Great. Today's just going great."

The one who wasn't Sam grabbed your arm with a small amount of force and lifted the rag to examine the cut. He glanced at Sam and back at you, "You should let us treat this...unless you want stitches."

As you mentally questioned whether that had been a threat, the men let themselves inside. You sighed in defeat and nodded toward the end of the hall where your first aid kit sat in the bathroom cabinet. You glared at Sam, then moved to the kitchen and sat back down at the table.

Sam sat down across from you and attempted to amend things with a smile, "I'm Sam, by the way." You glared. He swallowed, "...but you already knew that. This is Dean."

Dean walked into the kitchen with the kit and sat down next to you. You yanked it from his hands, purposefully rude because of his connection to Sam, and opened the box.

"So uh..." Dean watched you pour the alcohol onto your hurt hand, "Obviously you remember Sam. You remember why he was here?"

You bit your lip in pain and searched for a large bandage, "Duh. He wanted to know all about my visions."

They shared another confused look. You rolled your eyes, "Sorry, you guys probably call them 'prophecies'."

More than annoyed with everything that was happening, you impatiently gave up your search for the bandage and began wrapping your hand with roll gauze and elastic wrap. Dean looked shocked, "You're a prophet?"

"On weekdays I'm a psychic." You joked, smiling only to frown at their serious faces, "Yes, I'm a prophet."

"So..." Sam looked tentative, "When I came here a year ago--"

"You held a gun to my head and threatened to shoot first, ask questions later." You growled, then thought back to the moment and said more to yourself than to him, "Which doesn't really make much sense when I was the only person you could ask."

He held a pained expression, "Yeah, sorry about that. I was sort of....."

He seemed to be searching for a word to describe himself. Dean shook his head and simply stated, "He was soulless."

Your brain took a moment to wrap around that idea. Sam became defensive, "But I have one now! A soul, I mean." He sighed, "At least I can tell you the truth. Most people I screwed over in the past year will never understand why I was such an ass."

"You walked around for a year without a soul?" You stared into the distance in thought, "Is that even possible? How can you be positive you didn't have one?"

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and opened it again, "Just...trust me. I know."

He could tell that you weren't satisfied with that answer, so he went on, "An angel confirmed it."

"Ah." He seemed slightly surprised with your acceptance of the fact. Sometimes you forgot that not everyone knew it was no secret how particularly fond of angels you were, "I'm sort of buddy-buddy with an angel or two." You gestured to the walls of the rather large room, "It was Balthazar who set me up with this place. No way I'd ever be able to afford a house like this on my own."

"Balthazar?" Dean repeated.

You nodded, "You know him?"

Dean furrowed his brow and nodded in return, "Yeah, not too sure how I feel about him."

You smirked, "He's pretty amusing for an angel. Some of them can be...uptight."

He scoffed and leaned back in his chair, "No need to tell me."

You tilted your head, the question of which angel he knew lilting on your tongue, but he waved you off. You respected his decision of not talking about it and turned to Sam, whom you'd momentarily forgotten about, when he cleared his throat. 

"Again, I really am sorry for everything I did when I wasn't....me; but I need to know what you told me last year. Or at least what I asked about."

You thought back to the unpleasant memory. What you remembered most was staring down the barrel of a pistol and feeling the sweat drip down your neck, but you distinctly recalled the one thing he'd desperately wanted to know about. You brought yourself back to the present and looked at him skeptically.

He held up his hands defensively, "No guns. Promise."

You nodded once and looked him in the eyes, "You only asked about one thing. I don't know how you knew about my visions or the specific one I'd had, but you did." He waited for you to go on. You took a breath, "You asked about a man named Samuel Winchester. The only vision I've ever had of him was of him and some demon talking about a girl."

They were both silent. Dean spoke slowly, "The girl...was her name Mary?"

You nodded and looked at Sam, "Yeah. But he didn't ask that a year ago."

Their faces became stoic. You suddenly felt the need to change the subject, "So, uh, any idea who the demon was?"

"Crowley." Sam stated surely.

You looked between the two of them with a raised brow, expecting further explanation but getting none, "Who?"

Dean looked over at you, shocked, "You don't know who Crowley is? I thought prophets knew about all the big guys."

You shrugged. He sat up straight and set his hands on the table, "Crowley's the king of Hell. Head of all demons. Assface. Whatever you want to call him. Basically he runs the show down there now that..."

"Now that what?" You prompted.

"Now that Satan's locked up again."

"Again?" you repeated, feeling as if he became less credible the more he spoke, "Are you implying he escaped once before?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, "It's this whole...thing. I really don't feel like going into it."

Sam interrupted before you could ask him to tell the tale, "So you know about Lucifer and angels but not Crowley? What's up with that?"

You shrugged, "I stopped trying to understand my visions a long, long time ago. I see something random, I try and fail to forget it, and I move on."

"So you've never seen anything about us?" Sam asked genuinely.

You scoffed, "I don't see things about everyone."

"No I know, it's just..." he trailed off, looking like he was trying to explain something extremely complicated, "We're sort of in the middle of everything that's been happening. I'm not trying to sound conceited or anything, but not everyone's a 'true vessel'."

"A true vessel?" You repeated, looking between the two of them, "A true vessel for whom?"

Sam expression told you he'd said the wrong thing. He went to correct himself but Dean stood abruptly from the table and moved across the room, "We should get going. We were supposed to be a state over yesterday."

Feeling much different now than when the boys had first entered your home, you stood in an attempt to get them to stay, "Wait! I mean.....I don't get hunters coming through here for a chat too often. It's a nice change when you're used to superstitious old ladies wanting palm readings and spontaneous couples stopping by for a tarot card reading." They exchanged an awkward glance. You sighed, "I'm just trying to say that next time you guys are around, you should drop in so we can...catch up and whatnot."

Dean inched toward the hallway. Sam smiled politely, "I'm not really sure when we'll get a chance, but," he pulled a phone from his pocket and handed it to you, "type in your number and I'll call whenever I can."

You smiled in return and inserted your contact info, then handed the cellphone back to Sam. He stood from the table to follow his brother to the door, where you followed shortly behind. They stopped at the porch to say their goodbyes.

"It was nice seeing you again, (y/n)." Sam grinned down at you.

You smirked, "Next time you meet a girl, don't pull a gun on her the first time you see her."

They laughed and said goodbyes, heading for an old car in your driveway. You shut the door behind yourself and smiled at the somewhat nice turn your day had taken.

It didn't take long after their leave for the images of your most recent vision to seep back into your thoughts. You tried to push them away, but the face of the man in the field kept appearing there. In a final attempt to push them away you decided to have a scary movie marathon since you never had clientele on tuesdays. You started with a few classics like Night of the Living Dead and Nosferatu, moving your way up the scale by date. Before you realized it you'd gone through three bags of microwave popcorn, enough wine to make you tipsy, and more movies than you cared to count.

All the while you checked your phone for a call or text from Sam, but in the back of your head you knew his phrasing of "whenever I can" really meant "every once in a while." The thought disheartened you a little.

"At least you'll keep me company, Jason." You muttered to the screen as the ski mask-wearing killer stalked a teenage girl through the woods.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang through the house at the same moment that Jason fatally sliced the girl with his machete. You jumped and scrambled to pause the movie, feeling as if the coincidence were almost ominous. When you got over the scare you felt frustrated at the fact that so many people were visiting on your day off.

You left the couch and descended down the stairs toward the door. You were ready to tell off whoever it was, whether they be a potential client or not, because you preferred to ignore work completely on your day off and happened to be having a great time watching horror flicks. You opened the door and recited what you'd felt you'd needed to say one too many times before,

"Palm readings and tarot cards are done every day but today. Anything else will have to be scheduled or....." you trailed off.

The man tilted his head and smiled. You blinked and widened your eyes, "Your face...It's you."

The man from your vision looked down at you in amusement and seemed to be happy with your recognition, "It's me!"

"Yeah..." You paused, "Who are you?"

His expression changed to slight frustration, "May I come in?"

Instead of answering, you let your curiosity overpower your other emotions and stepped aside. He smiled gratefully and began walking through every room as if inspecting the place.

You followed him around, slightly disconcerted at the fact that he was so comfortable in your home, "You were in my vision."

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face you, "I wouldn't be here if some other prophet had seen my escape."

You sniffed at the word and followed him up the stairs, "Escape? And how did you know about my vision of you?"

He eyed you judgmentally, "You're a slow one, aren't you?"

"Excuse you?" you placed a hand on your hip when he stopped at the top of the stairs and scoffed, coming out of your reverie, "What are you doing, anyway? I can kick you out of here just as easily as I let you in."

"But you won't." He winked and then glanced into a few open doorways, "Because you're the only one who knows about my escape. Normally I'd just kill you, but under these...circumstances it may or may not be in my best interests to keep you alive. I suppose we'll see how things play out."

"... _what_ _?_ _"_

He sighed, looking tired of explaining things that made no sense to you. He walked into your "movie room" and paused in the doorway, "Oh?"

You blushed slightly, peeking around him to see the frozen image of Jason brutally murdering some chick. You went to explain, but he shook his head and placed a finger on your mouth to stop you, "Let me guess, it's some weird fetish thing, isn't it? Don't tell me about it." He paused, smirked, and spoke again, "Well, maybe later."

Your ever-confused expression put him off again. He sauntered through the hall to check out the last of the rooms and walked back to where you waited in front of the movie room.

You stood with your arms crossed, waiting for an explanation. He saw your face and actually pouted as if he didn't want to do so. You rolled your eyes and gestured to the couch. He sighed and sat down, looking up at you with puppy-dog eyes.

"You're going to have to explain this to me eventually, so it may as well be now." You stated matter-of-factly, "If you don't, I won't hesitate to throw you outside. The only reason I let you inside in the first place is that I saw you--"

"In a vision." He sighed and waved off the notion as if he'd heard it one hundred times before. He crossed his arms onto the back of the couch and lay his head down onto them as he looked up at you. You continued to stand there with a determined expression until he gave in, "Alright, alright. First off, you know that I'm not really human, correct?"

You furrowed your brow, "Well yes, but I don't know what you are." You considered everything he could be and mentally slapped yourself for letting him inside so readily without question, "Please tell me you aren't that Crowley guy."

His expression turned to such disgust that you immediately took it back, "Whoa okay, sorry. So you don't like demons, then. Does that mean...you're an angel?"

To your relief, his face went back to a state of amusement, "Correct."

"Then why did you use the front door?" You asked, recalling your earlier encounters with angels.

He left his head resting on his arms and stared up at you, as if willing you to figure it all out. You turned over a few possibilities in your head, "Well, I'm going to assume you're not just a polite angel," he chuckled at this, to which you smiled back momentarily, "so you've lost your grace."

"Correct again." He smiled still, his eyes slightly tired, "You aren't as blindly ignorant as I originally thought."

You scowled. He snickered at your face. You pressed on, "So which one are you? I could list off names until I get the right one, but I'm not too fond of the idea of spending hours playing the guessing game."

His eyes watched your face carefully as he spoke, "Lucifer."

Everything stopped. You remembered immediately what you'd seen in your vision, and then what Sam had told you earlier that day. You put the pieces together and relaxed your shoulders, "Oh."

" _Oh?"_ he repeated, lifting his head from his resting place and frowning slightly, "I was hoping for more of a fun reaction."

"A fun reaction?" You repeated.

He smirked, seemingly remembering past experiences, "You know, like 'oh my God', 'that's impossible', 'the power of Christ compels you.'"

You grinned at the last one, "Has someone really said that to you?"

Lucifer grinned in return and nodded. You gave a short laugh and rolled your eyes. He watched you with an interested face, "You don't seem too horrified."

Your brain had already realized and you reminded you of the fact after he'd said his name, "Well, I do happen to know an angel or two and they're alright. Plus you said yourself that you'd have killed me if you were still an angel, but as long as you don't have your grace I've got nothing to worry about. Which is why I'm most definitely  _not_ going to help you find it, by the way."

He seemed with you up until the whole "not going to help you" part. He sighed, "Come on, if you don't agree to help me I'm going to have to kill you anyway. It won't be as fun to do without my grace, and besides, I'd prefer to have someone to lend a helping hand in the matter....even a human."

"Even a human?"

"All you do is repeat me and ask questions." He stated bitterly.

You took a deep breath and uncrossed your arms, allowing them to fall to your sides, "How do I know you won't just kill me as soon as you get your grace back?"

"Oh I will." He nodded once as if trying to reassure you, then smiled, "It's just a matter of putting off the inevitable, isn't it?"

Your insides flipped uneasily at the threat. He was right, obviously, but you decided then and there that you'd need a plan. That plan would entail nothing but you doing everything you could to get on Lucifer's good side so that, when the time came and he found his grace, he wouldn't murder you. You took a deep breath and nodded, "Fine. I'll help you find your grace. My name's (y/n), by the way."

He rolled his eyes, "Duh. I found you, remember, (y/n)?"

"Yes Lucifer, I remember what's happened in the last hour."

He smiled, "Ooh, someone's unhappy."

You sighed and gestured toward the TV, "We can start the search tomorrow. I have a movie marathon to finish." you thought momentarily about your plan and cleared your throat, attempting to sound less rude, "And you should probably sleep. How long have you been human?"

He frowned at the idea, "Since yesterday."

"Have you slept?"

"No."

You raised a brow. He shrugged, "It hadn't crossed my mind."

You tossed him a blanket and moved around to sit on the couch with him. He smirked now that you were at eye-level with him.

"Shut up." you muttered.

"I didn't say anything." He smiled, grabbing the blanket you'd given him and sidling up next to you to that he could sprawl across the whole couch.

You stiffened at the sudden touch, then sighed in defeat and relaxed as he found a comfortable way to lay in your lap. You unpaused the movie to watch the serial killer murder the victim, feeling as if it almost poetically described your situation.

"Do you mind?" He drawled, eyes closed. You lowered the volume of the movie to almost nothing. He smiled and murmured a thanks before drifting off into sleep.


	2. Road Trip

"This is disgusting."

"Eat your damned cereal."

Lucifer scowled at his breakfast and swirled the spoon around in his bowl. You ate your cheerios in a dismal state. Ever since Lucifer had awoken that morning, he'd been complaining about things like brushing his teeth, feeling tired or bored, and now his breakfast. When he'd told you the night before that you two would be glued to the hip until he found his grace, you hadn't realized how much of a bother he'd actually be. It was like taking care of a child with a constant toothache.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, "I'm not hungry. Can we go now?"

"Go  _where?"_ You replied, "How do you propose we start a search for your grace without contacting anyone?"

"I already told you--"

"I know." You cut him off and sighed, "No one can know you're back on Earth without your grace, lest we want every hunter and angel in existence on our asses."

He continued to frown, "Not my word choice, but yes."

You stared down into your half-filled bowl of cereal with a lost appetite. You grabbed both your bowl and his and began to wash them out in the sink as you spoke, "But seriously, where do we start? Where could it have possibly gone?"

He spoke slowly as if thinking over his words, "I've considered a few possibilities. First: The witch who got me out did it just so she could steal my grace and sabotage me. In that case, my grace would still reside in that lovely cage in the pits of Hell. Second: Somehow when I escaped my grace was ripped away from me. This could be the result of a powerful spell or some type of weird defense mechanism placed on the cage. In that case, I'd guess it's either in the hands of some lucky brother or sister of mine, or hidden in some nook far away from here. Third: It was taken from me while I was in the cage and I never realized. I doubt that one, considering my grace's ability to alter reality was one of the few things that kept me entertained, but it's possible. Thoughts?"

By the time he finished speaking you'd already hand washed the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher. Currently you were standing with your back against the counter and considering each scenario Lucifer had described.

"Well..." you began, "We may as well rule out the first one, considering that if your grace truly is still in Hell, there's not much we can do about it. As you said, the third one is doubtful, not to mention highly inconvenient in terms of a search, so we may as well leave that idea off of our minds until we have further information. So I guess we're sticking with the second one...which means we  _really_ cannot get another angel involved in this."

He didn't say anything for what seemed like a long time. You looked over at him to see a bright smile lighting up his face.

"Sometimes you're smarter than you look, you know that?"

You scowled at his smile. He clapped his hands together and stood in one swift motion, "So, (y/n), how does one find an angel's grace?"

"Dunno." You shrugged, "The internet?"

Lucifer looked like he was holding back from rolling his eyes, "And she's back to being as dumb as she looks."

Instead of answering his insult, you went to the next room over and sat down on one of the chairs with the laptop you'd left there. As you presumed he would, Lucifer followed you into the room and immediately questioned how you planned on finding his grace using the internet.

"When exactly did you get out? I'm talking within minutes."

He looked at you like you were insane, "I don't know. Why is that important?"

You frowned and typed in the date of two days before, "I've been told by...your brother that when an angel loses their grace on Earth, it lands on the surface in the shape of a physical form."

"A physical form?" He walked around to the back of the chair so that he could peer over your shoulder at the screen, "Like what? A rock?"

You shrugged, "Potentially."

"Well that's boring."

"And extremely hard to find." You muttered as you scrolled through pages of news articles, "It doesn't seem like anything too weird happened when you got out. A few people died, a few children were born, and a few people were arrested. Nothing too different than what happens every other day."

"What about that?" He asked, reaching past you to point at one of the search results.

You eyed it and read the headline aloud skeptically, "'Miracle baby lives after fifteen minutes of being considered dead'?"

You peered at him over your shoulder and raised a brow. He frowned, "What?"

"You think because your grace landed somewhere on Earth it automatically caused a miracle?"

His expression came off as angry, but his eyes seemed almost as if they were pouting, "Why not?"

You just shook your head and closed your laptop, "Nothing, nothing. I suppose we can check it out. You sure you can handle being in a car for eight hours?"

" _Eight hours?"_ He repeated, looking horrified, "We can't just imagine the place and show up there? Like--"

"Like we're angels?" You gave him a dumbfounded expression, "No, Lucifer. We have to actually spend time and money to get to places we want to go."

He glared and put his hands in his pockets, his eyes looking away from yours to avoid embarrassment, "No need for the bluntness."

You took a deep breath and hauled yourself upstairs to pack. Contrary to Lucifer's belief, it required planning to go places -- and that included what you were going to do when you got there. Luckily enough for you, he'd chosen to pursue a "miracle baby" who was only a state away.

You grabbed a suitcase and threw in whatever you might need: Clothes, toiletries, money, a weapon or two, etc. You'd always been teased by your aunt when she took you places because "when you're leaving for one day, you pack for two, (y/n)." In the past your habit had proven useful, but you often dreaded the idea of air travel due to it's extensive rules that required light packing.

"What are you doing?"

Just as you got the last of you clothes into the suitcase, you turned to the doorway to see Lucifer leaning against the doorframe, a suspicious look on his face. You ignored him and zipped the suitcase closed. When you tried to get past him, however, he stopped you by stepping in your way.

You took a step back so that you weren't staring straight at his chest. You rolled your eyes, "It's an eight hour drive there and and eight hour drive back. We are most definitely choosing a motel to stay in for the night when we get there."

He smirked, "Did you just offer to spend a night with me in a motel, (y/n)?"

"Motels have separate rooms, you ass."

He pouted and leaned against the doorframe again, "Aw, you don't wanna share a room?"

You said a quick, "Nope" and took your opportunity to squeeze past him and go back downstairs.

He jogged to catch up with you and smirked when he was able to stop you before you could reach the foyer, "C'mon, we've already slept together."

A blush crept onto your face, "Don't say it like  _that_. We slept...next to each other."

"Different words, same meaning."

"Similar words, different meaning." You corrected. He smiled.

You sighed and pushed him out of your way. You grabbed your laptop from the chair and your keys and wallet from the counter. He stood waiting at the door. You allowed him to open it for you and gesture you outside. Once he followed, you locked the door to your home and looked over the two vehicles in your driveway, mentally deciding which would be better in terms of mileage for the drive.

Lucifer sauntered over to the black mustang with tinted windows and grinned, "Let's take this one."

With a shrug and a nod, you moved to the driver's side of the fairly new car and unlocked the doors. Once the two of you were inside and the car was started, he wasted no time getting himself comfortable by kicking his feet onto the dash and reclining the seat to a more suitable position. You rolled your eyes and tossed him your phone, then exited the driveway.

He looked down at the device and sent you a questioning stare, "What's this for?"

"While I'm driving, you're going to call all my clients and tell them why I won't be able to service them for the next...however long this takes."

"What am I supposed to--"

"Make something up."

He sighed, but agreed to do it all the same. You informed him of which contacts to call. You listened as you drove while he dialed one of the numbers and held the phone to his ear.

You heard the ringing halt, but not the voice on the other end. Lucifer answered it with a smile, "Hello, I was just calling to inform you that (y/n)..." He placed his hand over the receiver and asked for your last name. You told him and he quickly got back to his conversation, "...(y/n) won't be available to provide you with her services for at least a month. Why? Oh, because..." you looked over at him just in time to catch his mischievous grin, "Because she's on her honeymoon!"

You widened your eyes and resisted the urge to rip the phone from his hands. He smiled wider at your face and continued to speak to the client, "Yes, this is her husband! No, she's always been quiet about me. I think she's embarrassed but hey, she married me, so that's a good sign, eh?" He laughed at the response he received and was soon saying his goodbyes, "Sure, sure. I'll call you as soon as the honeymoon's over!"

He eagerly hit the 'end' button and went to dial another number. He stopped when you spoke, "What. The.  _Hell._ "

"Now is that really something you should be saying to me, of all people?"

"Did you just tell a client that you're my  _husband?"_

He grabbed your right hand and kissed it gingerly, then smiled, "Don't be mean, dear. We're on our honeymoon!"

You yanked your hand away and took a deep breath so that you wouldn't start to yell. He seemed to be having great fun at your expense.

He sighed, his smile still glued to his smug little face, "Alright, be that way. I've got more people to call anyway."

"If you tell any more of them that--"

"Already told one of them, now the rest have to be told the same thing or they'll start rumors and it'll be bad for business. You know I'm right, (y/n)."

Again, you kept yourself from starting an argument mainly because if you were going to stick to the plan, you needed to be as likeable as you could be in his eyes. For now, that meant not spending an eight hour car ride in a disagreement.

You didn't look at his expression, but the sarcasm in his voice was thick enough, "You're right. I should just call all your clients and tell them that their employer won't be available for an extended amount of time because she's taking a road trip with the Devil. I'm sure that'll go over nicely."

"Fine, I get it. Just call them."

"I want to hear you say it."

You took a deep breath, consciously making an effort to not look at Lucifer's face, "Call my clients and tell them we're married."

"Honeymooning." He corrected with a smile, "By the way, what is your job anyhow?"

You gave him a look that couldn't possibly have come close to conveying how annoyed with him you were. He shrugged. You turned your eyes back to the road and relaxed your shoulders to calm yourself down, "I'm a psychic."

"Ah. Not a  _real_ psychic."

"No, Lucifer, not a real psychic."

He brushed off your annoyance and pressed on, "How long have you been a fake psychic?"

"A while."

"Alright, what'd you do before you were a fake psychic?"

"Things."

His eyes bore into the side of your head. You glanced away from the road for just long enough to his expression and say, "We can talk about me later. Call my clients."

"Fine." He sighed in defeat and spent the next hour or so telling people about your honeymoon and re-scheduling appointments that would no doubt have to be cancelled again later on. You found yourself listening only when he spoke of yours and his ostentatious extravaganza of a wedding.

 

 

It was a few hours into the trip when AC DC's "Hell's Bells" played on the radio. You hadn't really given it much thought until Lucifer asked why humans were so intent on including Hell in so much of their music.

"I guess it's because it's symbolic of the worst thing to ever be. Like, you can tell a rapist that they'll be in prison for the rest of their life once they get caught, but that's nothing compared to telling them that they'll spend an eternity in Hell no matter what. It makes everything more intense. More...fear inducing."

He didn't say much about it after that, but when another song came on a few minutes later with the lyrics of "I'll make a deal with the Devil" and "the wrath of God and Satan," Lucifer began to laugh.

You sent him a curious look. He just shook his head, his laughter turning to giggles, "I hadn't realized how famous I am."

You felt yourself smiling, "Well...infamous, but yes. Aren't you supposed to be super prideful about this stuff?"

"I'm supposed to be a lot of things." He gave another short laugh, "Don't you humans tend to depict me as some giant thing with horns and a pitchfork?"

You chuckled, "Yeah. I never really understood the pitchfork thing."

He watched you for a moment before he spoke, "What did you think I looked like?"

You took your eyes off the road for a second to make sure he was being serious. You figured he wouldn't accept "I don't know" as an answer, so you took a moment to think. He waited patiently.

"Well...a long time ago, back before my visions first started, I didn't think you existed. To be fair, I didn't think vampires or spirits existed either. Even when I first started to envision things I simply thought I was going insane. I thought they were hallucinations and I went to therapy for a while -- but that's not the point. After a long time I accepted that they were actual visions of things actually happening, so I began to pay attention. It was a few years in before I first heard about you. There were a bunch of demons discussing something about a bunch of seals. Once I realized that you existed I started to picture the whole stereotypical 'red guy with horns and a tail,' but once it dawned on me how stupid that was, I began to picture an angel. This was long before I'd ever met any of your brothers, so I had no idea what angels looked like, but I sort of imagined this bright winged creature surrounded by demons. In a way you were nothing but a light shrouded in darkness. To me, anyway."

You awaited his response. He said nothing, so you looked over to see him sitting with his feet to the floor and face staring out the window. Annoyed, you almost questioned if he'd even been listening, but he surprised you by speaking in a softer tone than usual, "Have you ever been to Indiana?"

".....what? Lucifer, were you even listening to my--"

"Have you?"

You furrowed your brow, "No, I haven't."

He turned around to search your eyes for signs of dishonesty, then turned back to the window when he found none, "We should go sometime."

Instead of pushing the issue and confusing yourself further, you allowed him to wallow. You turned up the radio and tried to ignore the lyrics that pertained to Heaven and Hell.

 

 

"Lucifer if you don't get your ass out of the damned car you will be locked in it for the rest of the day while _I_ investigate the miracle baby."

"But, (y/n)," he whined, "I'm hungry!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration, "Fine. You go get us checked into the motel and I will find a fast food joint. Now get out."

He hopped out of the mustang with an accomplished-looking grin. He took the bags (things you and him had bought at the store for him), your suitcase, and enough money for two rooms, then turned and headed toward the lobby.

"Don't wait up." You called after him, still irritated with his childish tendencies.

He waved back once without looking at you. You got back into the car and decided that the only thing that could bring you any amount of joy at that moment was a taco. Your car followed your stomach's craving and allowed you to find a Mexican food oriented drive thru within minutes of wandering aimlessly.

You ordered food for yourself, then a few things for Lucifer due to his immense pickiness. Once you found your way back to the motel, which you now realized was somewhat nicer in terms of cleanliness compared to other motels, you parked as close as possible to the doors and headed inside.

You walked into the lobby, fully prepared to ask about your room key and call Lucifer's room phone if necessary, but the man behind the front desk eyed you when you walked in and said, "(y/n)? Your husband left a room key for you here."

"My hus..." You frowned and grabbed the thing, "Did he only rent one room?"

"Erm, yes." He looked uncomfortable under your stare.

You checked the room number and stomped up the stairs and all the way to the end of the hall. You jammed the key into the lock and unlocked and opened the door almost simultaneously. Of course, the first thing you saw was Lucifer lounging on a desk chair with feet on the desk on hands resting behind his head. He smiled upon your arrival.

"You got one room." You growled, shutting the door behind you with enough force to expect a neighboring complaint, "We discussed this, Lucifer. And why do you keep telling everyone we're married?"

"I think it's a good cover." He shifted his gaze to the ceiling and muttered, "Clearly you do not."

You tossed the food onto the nearest table and took a moment to really view the room. It's best feature was clearly the thirty-something inch flatscreen. It didn't have a mini fridge as you expected it to, but a large card next to the phone led you to believe there was at least room service. The bathroom more resembled a closet with a toilet and a sink than an actual bathroom. The last few pieces of furniture were the bed and the chair/desk that Lucifer resided in.

"You're getting on my nerves."

"See?" He smirked, gesturing to you, "We already bicker like a married couple."

"Shut up and eat your food so we can go check out the baby."

He obliged when you threw one of the bags at him. You flopped down onto the queen sized bed with a sigh. The TV was on, but it was playing an annoying tune over and over on some sort of menu screen. 

You hadn't realized how exhausted you were until you were actually laying on a bed. Within minutes, your mind went to a state of blank sleep.


	3. Miracle Baby

_A beautiful woman sauntered through a crowd of demons._

_Or rather, a horrendous monster with the face of a beautiful woman._

_Each demon, of which there were tens, had a face behind his or her face. A bald and muscular man had a face nearly shrouded by familiar gray-black smoke. A burly-looking woman with dyed red hair had a face corrupted by a mass of dark black mist._

_Past the demons were other varieties of monsters. Many had the fangs of a vampire or the partial tattooing of a djinn. A few seemed antsy to move, but dared not in the presence of the beautiful woman._

_The woman's horrible face stopped in front of one of these monsters. They stared for a long, long while. No blinking, no twitching, just staring. After this while the woman spoke a few Latin words. The creature dared not respond._

_The face behind her face looked irrefutably angry and upset, but the mortal woman's expressions stayed the same calm. No one moved for a long while._

"(y/n)? Damn you, wake up!" A man's voice said urgently.

You felt that same feeling you'd grown so used to over the years; the feeling of agonizing pain draining from your mind. The only things you were immediately sure of were the hands on your arms, the subsiding pain, and the fact the you were being yelled at by an ex-angel whilst dead tired, "Lucifer damned me. Truly I have reached a new low."

You peeked through your eyelids. Lucifer looked incredibly relieved, but his hard grip on your upper arms did not relinquish, "What did you see?"

You waited for the last of the pain to leave your head before responding, "It was a woman...I think. She was commanding a bunch of demons and these vampire-type things."

His expression was too ambiguous for you to get anything from it, "......Did she say anything?"

"Yes."

He prompted you to go on. You rolled your eyes, "It was in Latin."

"Recite it to me."

"Lucifer, I wasn't trying to listen. I don't know what she said." You frowned, "Who is she?"

He stared at you, or more precisely, through you, for a few seconds before shaking his head, "It doesn't matter. Someone else will take care of her."

"Who is she?" You repeated in dissatisfaction.

He loosened his grip as if he were about to let go of you and get up. You used one of your legs to catch one of his so that he had no choice but to stay there. His face was nothing less than annoyed and his explanation was nothing less than blunt, "Her name is Eve. She sort of...created all the things that go bump in the night. Except demons."

You couldn't stop yourself from saying it, "Which you created."

His lips pressed together in a stern matter, "Yep."

You stared at each other for a short time. You imagined that neither of you were exactly satisfied with the cooperation of the other. He seemed reluctant to go on, at least for the time being, and you deemed it better to drop the subject and get back to current events than pursue the matter. You moved your leg so that he could get back up, which he did not.

"You can let go of me now."

He searched your eyes for another long moment, then moved quickly to stand at the side of the bed. You sat up and propped up your weight with your arms.

"Shall we go see about the baby?" You asked.

He stared at the window covered by curtains on the other side of the room, "We shall." He shifted his gaze to you with a generally confused look, "Where is the thing anyway?"

"The thing?" You repeated. He smirked slightly and shrugged. You went on, "The  _baby_ was born days ago. It'll still be at the hospital."

He glanced at the clock on the wall, "Don't these places have some sort of...'visiting time'?"

You did the same and came to the sudden realization that you'd been asleep for hours. Sometimes your visions made it feel like seconds had passed during sleep; you'd once had one during the night and not woken up until the evening of the next day. Needless to say, it was more irritating than useful, "Why in the Hell did you let me sleep for so long?"

"You looked tired." He stated with what you assumed was genuine concern.

Instead of being upset you actually felt slightly flattered after having the stress-inducing day you'd had -- even if Lucifer had been the cause of it, "Thanks. We should get to the hospital while they still allow visitors."

He smiled and held out a hand to help you up. You took it gratefully and stood, only to be instantaneously wrapped in a hug. You froze in surprise and hesitantly hugged him back.

"Lucifer wh--"

"Shush." He cut you off and spoke quietly into your ear, still with arms around you, "This is my apology for my earlier actions. Okay?"

You swallowed back any non-genuine retort you may have had and said in the same quiet tone, "Yeah sure but--"

He shushed you again by letting go of you and heading toward the door. He stopped to open it and gestured outside, a smile plaguing his face, "Shall we?"

 

 

 

"Reason for visit?"

You smiled politely at the stout woman sitting at the front desk, "We just came to see my sister's new baby. Last name is Stanson."

The woman glanced half-heartedly between you and Lucifer and used her pen to point down one of the halls, "Take the hall and use the elevator to get to the third floor. Ms. Stanson is in room 357."

You smiled instead of thanking the woman, knowing she wouldn't appreciate it either way, and speed-walked down the hall. Lucifer had to jog to catch up to you and didn't say anything until you pressed the up arrow next to the elevator.

He looked like he wanted to giggle, "You seem nervous."

"It's been a while since I've done something like this." You muttered.

The elevator dinged and the doors pushed open. Lucifer followed you inside and you jabbed at the button with the little red "3".

"You sneak into hospitals often?"

"Not now." You glanced at his entertained expression and sighed, "I did this sort of thing a lot when I was a hunter."

His eyes shone, "You were a hunter? You? Are you sure you aren't getting yourself mixed up with someone else, (y/n)?"

You glared at him, "Positive, Lucifer."

He clearly wanted to continue the conversation, but was stopped short by the elevator doors dinging themselves open again. You stepped out onto the third floor and eyed the room numbers next to the doors. It was nearly 9 PM, so the halls were mostly empty save for the occasional doctor, visitor, or wandering patient. Luckily for you, that meant less people to deal with than you felt like dealing with.

You followed the doors from the the 301s to the 310s and 320s all with Lucifer trailing shortly behind. He said nothing, but he was humming a song quietly to himself that you couldn't quite put a title to.

When you reached room 357 you grabbed for the handle and were stopped by a question from your puppy dog of a former archangel, "What are we gonna say when we get in there?"

You knocked on the door and murmured to him, "Just follow my lead."

You pushed it open to find a two women and the miracle baby. One of the women was the mother, who lay in bed with her child, seemingly trying to lull it to sleep. The other woman was clearly a doctor, perhaps even the doctor that'd delivered the baby. She glanced at the mother upon your arrival, who shrugged in response.

"Excuse me, Ms. Stanson? We're with one of the local magazines and we'd really appreciate a moment of your time to interview you about you and your miracle child." You greeted with a smile.

The mother smiled back at you, "Of course. I'd love to continue to spread the word of my blessing."

The doctor looked at Ms. Stanson in concern, "Are you sure you'll be alright for the next few hours?"

"Of course. I can always buzz in one of the nurses if I need anything. Thank you Doctor."

The doctor smiled at each one of you and left without fully closing the door behind her. You and Lucifer sat down on the chairs on the left side of the bed.

She looked between the two of you, "Which magazine are you with, exactly?"

"Cinder Monthly. Usually we focus on politics or fashion, but I'm hoping to change the direction of our cause."

She smiled at this, "That's wonderful. I truly hope people learn from my experience."

Before you could say something else, Lucifer nodded to the woman's neck with a smile, "Lovely necklace."

You glanced at it to see a rather gruesome-looking Jesus nailed to a golden cross. You resisted the urge to elbow him in the gut and/or laugh hysterically.

She seemed very happy with his compliment, "Thank you very much. Is it wrong for me to assume that you have a personal relationship with our Lord and Savior?"

You bit your lip to hold back your laughter at Lucifer's response, "Oh, trust me. I'm in as personal of a relationship as you can get with Him."

You changed the subject so that you wouldn't slip up, "Ms. Stanson, would you mind giving us your version of the story about what happened with your child?"

"Well," she began, glancing down at the bundle in her arms, "When Peter was first born they told me his was stillborn. He hadn't taken a breath of air and he had no pulse, they said. I was completely devastated. I was almost devastated enough to pray for forgiveness to make up for the repentance I thought I had received, but I thanked God instead for the child he'd given me, even if I wasn't going to get a chance to raise him. And then suddenly, almost moments after I'd ended my prayer, I heard him crying. The doctors rushed around to check his pulse and clean him up and wonder what could possibly have happened, but I knew it was a miracle. I cried and cried in joy and I thank the Lord for this blessing."

Lucifer ignored most of her praises to God and skipped right to what he needed to know, "When you were praying before Peter awoke, did you notice anything unusual?"

She furrowed her brow, "Well no, but I did have my eyes closed. I suppose you could ask Doctor Chinley."

You resisted the urge to sigh with the knowledge that sitting through the woman's story had been a large waste of time. You stared at the baby, "The baby, Peter, is there anything unusual about him? Other than his miraculous recovery?"

"No." She reported quickly, "The doctors checked for everything. Other than the fact that he hasn't been crying too much everything's completely normal."

You nodded and realized it was probably a bad idea on your part to ask a mother if her child was normal. Physically there was obviously nothing wrong with the kid. He had the picturesque appearance of a chubby two-day old and seemed to be breathing at an average pace.

"Well," you stood from your chair and Lucifer did the same, "Thank you for the story. We have everything we need."

She allowed you to leave without a fuss. The two of you went back down the hall toward the elevator and stopped outside to talk.

"My grace wasn't there." He confirmed.

You nodded, "I figured as much. I guess this whole place is a bust then." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the wall in annoyance. You thought back to what you'd read about Peter on the internet, "What do you think really happened to the kid?"

"Doesn't matter. We're leaving."

You sighed, also having figured that that would be his response, "So we're not even going to try and solve this? What if it's a witch cursing newborns or a reaper temporarily taking life? Shouldn't they be stopped?"

"We're leaving." He repeated sternly, looking angry.

You glared back at him and hit the elevator button. You crossed your arms in the same defeated manner, only for different reasons than his. The elevator dinged and you each hopped inside and rode quietly down to the first floor.

The doors slid open and you walked out of them to see the familiar hallway you'd been in before. At the end of it you could see the front desk and what looked to be a janitor mopping the floor. You didn't think much of the dreary sight until you were grabbed from behind and pushed into one of the closest doorways.

Lucifer rushed inside behind you and shut the door with a quickness you'd never seen him use. Once you were over the initial shock and both of you were inside, you realized you were in a rather cramped closet. Lucifer stared out the crack between the door and the wall.

You let out a surprised breath, "What the Hell are you--"

He looked at you just long enough to clasp a hand over your mouth and peek back through the crack. He turned back around and stared down at you with a very serious face, "The man out there is a demon."

"Are you sure?" You asked when he removed his hand from your face. He gave you a look that said you were stupid for even asking. You felt a blush on your cheeks and were thankful for the lack of lighting. You frowned and raised a brow, "Okay, so why are we hiding? Aren't demons like, your butt-buddies?"

"Cute. But no. Not anymore, anyway." His expression quickly went from irritated to disgusted, "Not since that filthy crossroad demon convinced them to defy me."

"...Crowley?"

You took the lack of a response as confirmation, "So not only do we have to hide from hunters and angels, but now demons too?"

"This wouldn't be a problem if my grace had been here." He growled bitterly.

You ignored his passive aggressiveness and pushed him aside so that you could peer out into the hall. Once he reluctantly moved and your eyes adjusted to the light, you realized that the janitor was heading straight for you. 

Your breath caught in your throat and it took you a moment speak, "Lucifer he's...what do we--"

Lucifer moved to stare outside. He turned around with a frown and quickly surveyed everything in the closet. You were starting to panic. He sensed this and did what you guessed was all he could to deal with the situation.

He pulled you into an embrace and thrust his lips onto yours. It took you a moment to react and an even longer moment to calculate his plan. You pressed as much of yourself into him as you could and kissed back with a good amount of vigor.

The door thrust open. Neither of you broke apart. The janitor/demon quickly apologized and shut the door again. You stayed in that position and waited until his footsteps could no longer be heard before you went to break the kiss. Lucifer, however, seemed to have no intention of doing so. You had to put your hands on his chest and physically push so that he'd catch the hint. He acknowledged you and halted the kiss, but kept his arms on your waist.

He stared into your eyes for a long time without saying anything, his face expressionless. You felt your face growing hot and unknown emotions bubbling in your gut, but you held your tongue. The both of you stood there, staring for what felt like an eternity; until finally you each leaned in again for a second kiss at the exact same time.

This time his lips were much, much softer. For those few seconds you finally understood the phrase "melting into a kiss." His grip tightened only after yours did. When yours loosened and you took a step back, letting go of the kiss, he did the same.

"So, uh," Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat in slight embarrassment, "Ready to go?"

He simply opened the door and gave a small gesture to the hall. You stepped into it and sauntered to the end, then out the front doors, then out to the car. Both of you got in without a word and drove back to the motel with only the sounds of the radio between you. Of course, that was generously assuming that either of your were really listening.

The man at the lounge desk in the motel looked between the two of you and whatever he saw there decided it wasn't worth greeting. You went up the stairs and to the motel room silently. Lucifer entered the room and you followed, shutting the door behind you and locking it for the night.

When you turned back around, he was sitting at the desk chair with his feet propped on the table, hands behind his head, and eyes glued to the ceiling just as he had been before. You stared at him until he looked at you. Neither of you said anything, but you both knew very well that you hadn't spoken since the hospital because both your consciouses were still stuck on that kiss.

He held a serious expression, "Tomorrow we should find my grace."

You raised a brow, "Are you asking?"

"Do you need a command?"

Unable to hide it, you smiled.

He smiled back.


	4. Cute Bartenders

"Could break that Satan's spell--"

_Click._

"Good God let me give you my life--"

_Click._

"Must be a devil between us--"

"Okay, that's it." Lucifer hit the stereo with one final 'click' and, instead of the station changing, the music died off. He huffed in annoyance and crossed his arms, lounging in the passenger seat in a way that portrayed his feelings toward the whole music industry.

You couldn't help yourself from cracking up. He sent you a death glare, but you just shook your head and smiled in amusement. You had to admit, your new favorite game in the car was most definitely "find a song that doesn't offend the Devil." His continued irritation only fueled the fire of your continued enjoyment of the game.

"Some of those songs were actually pretty good." You stated casually, grinning.

"Forget the music." He muttered, staring at the traffic jam ahead in utter discontent, "Where's this place we're going again?"

"Spring Valley, Minnesota." You nodded toward the laptop in the back seat. He reached back, grabbed it, and set it in his lap once he got comfortable again.

He opened it with squinted eyes and read the text on the screen, "Undocumented meteor shower near church in Spring Valley, Minnesota. So this happened on the day I got out?"

"Correct." You answered.

"And you think my grace landed as a meteor?"

"Makes more sense than a miracle."

When you tore your eyes from the backed up traffic to glance at him, Lucifer stuck his tongue out at you. You smiled.

You looked back at the road and stared around the car in contempt. If you planned on switching lanes anytime soon, it clearly was not going to happen. You knew it would be hours before it completely cleared out since it was 5 PM on a weekday. Instead of sitting in traffic for hours more with someone who would not (and frankly, could not) switch places with you, you decided on a whim to take the first exit that presented itself.

For about ten minutes Lucifer surfed the web and you listened to drivers yell at each other while still watching for an exit opening. You were almost tempted to turn the radio back on, but the sound of keys typing, however slowly, was more calming.

"Next time we have a chance I'll teach you to type with both hands." You commented with a nod to his 'index finger only' typing style, "It's a lot easier once  you get the hang of it."

He was much too concentrated on his typing to answer. You rolled your eyes and gestured to the dash of the Mustang, "I may as well teach you to drive, too. I'd appreciate a break for a nap every now and again."

He looked up and paused his typing if only momentarily, "That's a unique perspective. Most people say they want God to take the wheel."

You scoffed and he snickered. He almost got back to his oh-so-important web surfing when you spoke again, "Should we...should we talk about God sometime?"

His hands froze and his smile left his face, "......What about him?"

"Well..." For the first time, you actually felt a little scared to say something to Lucifer, "He's the reason you want to wipe out humans, right? Because you won't worship us?"

He didn't look at you, but if he had you'd have been unnerved by his fuming expression, "I  _refuse_ to place myself below lesser beings because I love my Father  _too much. Do you know what it's like to be cast out for being too loving of your own_ \--"

He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. The laptop was now back to being shut and he placed an elbow on it, then leaned forward to rest his head on his arm, "(y/n), let's not talk about this."

You swallowed and used the opportunity to change the subject, "Alright. What are you going to do once we finally  _do_ get your grace?"

Lucifer looked very unimpressed with the way the conversation was going. You sighed, "Fine, we'll talk about it later."

He nodded and re-opened the laptop. This time his typing was much less mythodic and more separated.

You tried to take it as a good sign when the traffic jam finally allowed enough room for you to pull off into an exit. You had no idea where it was leading you or how you'd be spending your time there. The setting sun gave you more condolence than you thought it might.

Lucifer didn't seem to notice the change of scenery until the occasional neon sign or street light reflected on the laptop screen. He stopped whatever he'd been doing to look at his surroundings, "Are we in the Minnesota whatever town?"

"No. That's still a ways off." You drove at a leisurely pace through the quaint town, eyeing the places you went by, "We're gonna stay here until the traffic on the highway dies down."

He clucked his tongue, "So many unnecessary stops, (y/n)."

"Unnecessary? Not at all." You replied as you pulled into a small and dusty-looking old bar.

"Classy." He commented with a roll of his eyes, "You're stopping for a drink."

" _We're_ stopping for a drink." You corrected, fixing the mustang into a parking space and eyeing Lucifer with a smirk, "I'm gonna go out on a branch here and say that you've never had alcohol."

"Not a drop. Are you insinuating that you're going to break my sober streak of thousands of years?"

"Not  _insinuating_." You poked him with your index finger and then pointed to the door of the place, "I'm  _telling_ you that you're going to go in there and ruin your own sobriety."

"Is that so?" He grinned back with a wiggle of his brow.

Instead of answering you opened your door and stepped out of the car, then waited for Lucifer to do the same before you locked it. It's tinted windows and clean exterior looked wildly out of place in the gas station-esque parking lot.

Lucifer still had the laptop open and was continuing whatever he was doing on it as he followed you inside the bar. To your surprise, the joint seemed to be packed with patrons. With a quick sweep of the eye you realized at least half of the loud, drunken men were wearing matching striped jerseys. They seemed to be crowding more around the bar and the surrounding tables than anywhere else, so you turned and brought Lucifer to one of the tables in the corner. Unlike many modern taverns, this one was devoid of most forms of technology other than a single small TV above the bar and a few electronic dart boards along the walls. They at least had a wide selection of alcohol.

"You sit here, I'll get drinks." You commanded, pulling out a chair for him.

Lucifer sat in it without looking up from the laptop and shooed you away. You debated telling him to get off of the thing, but decided against it in the end. You left him sitting there and approached the end of the bar where the bartender stood, hopefully far enough away from the rowdy men to not get caught in the middle of their celebration.

"Anything you want, miss?" The bartender asked as he wiped the counter, a slight Russian accent slipping through his words.

"Two beers is it, thanks."

He smiled and reached below the counter to fish out two non-name brand bottles of alcohol. He grabbed a bottle opener and watched you watch the men in jerseys as he flicked the caps off the beers, "Quite the party over there, eh?"

You chuckled, "Yeah. What're they celebrating, anyway?"

"Local baseball team won the state tournament earlier today." He smiled kindly when you raised a brow, "I can spot an out-of-statesman a mile off." He looked you up and down with a flick of his eyes, "Can't imagine both these beers are for you?"

You smirked and nodded toward the table Lucifer sat at, hunched over your laptop. The bartender glanced at him and sighed, the smile on his face seeming a little more melancholy, "Makes sense I suppose. Pretty out-of-state girl isn't going to breeze through here and sweep you off your feet in this lifetime, Jimmy."

You smiled widely at the compliment, "I'm (y/n)."

He opened his mouth to comment on your words, but was flagged down by one of the baseball players yelling for him at the top of his lungs. You cringed at the noise and gave him a half-hearted smile when he made his way over to the guy. You picked up the beers on the counter and sent him a wave goodbye from across the bar before moving between tables and finding your way to Lucifer.

"That took a while." He muttered, resting his cheek on one hand and controlling the laptop with the other.

"I was flirting with the bartender." You said honestly, hoping to gauge his reaction.

Lucifer frowned and glanced above the laptop at your face for just a brief second before staring back down at the screen and wiping his expression clean again. He gave a sarcastic, "Is he cute?"

"Don't you mean 'is he cuter than me'?"

He tried not to smile, but ended up smiling anyway. You closed the laptop, nearly smashing one of his fingers in the process (to which he quickly pulled his hand away with the Spanish phrase of 'Ay carumba!") to get his attention. You slid his beer across the table and nodded encouragingly when he lifted it.

He brought it to his lips in a very un-enthusiastic manner, then tilted it back and took a sip. When he set the bottle back down he scrunched his eyes up and sniffed in disgust, "That was horrible."

"Cheers, then." You grinned and lifted your bottle, then downed about half of it.

He looked impressed, "That cannot be worth it."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it. Plus I'm pretty sure alcohol is referred to as the 'Devil's drink.' Or maybe that's wine. Don't quote me on that."

Lucifer's boredness slowly brought him gravitating back toward the laptop. He went to open it but you slapped one of your hands onto the top before he could, "We should take a minute to talk while I'm not stuck behind the wheel of a car."

He hesitantly set his hands in his lap, eyeing both you and the beer skeptically, "Okay..."

You stared until he spoke again, "I already told you that we'll talk about my grace and my family when the time--"

"No, no. I don't want to talk about any of that."

You couldn't tell if his face read more as suspicious or remorseful, "What then?"

You took a swig of your alcohol and looked him in the eye after you set it back down, "...We kissed."

"I remember." He rolled his eyes, "Is that it?"

"'Is that it?'" You mocked with a scoff, "You're human, Lucifer. You feel emotions. Tell me about the kiss."

He placed his elbows on the table and set his hands together. He leaned forward enough so that you could hear him speaking quietly over the surrounding noise, "It was for a....what do you call it? A hunt. Purely strategic."

You leaned forward in the same manner, closing plenty of the distance between you, "Purely strategic. Which is why  _I_ had to end it."

He smirked, a light from somewhere in the room dancing in his blue eyes, "Are you saying you didn't like it?"

"Are _you_?" You bit your lip and smiled.

"Like is a strong word."

"And strategicis a weak one."

Lucifer sat all the way back in his chair and laughed. You were a little disappointed in the loss of his attention, but smiled and took a few more swigs of your beer nonetheless.

He watched you finish off the bottle and handed you his own. Both of you knew he wasn't going to finish it anyway, so you grabbed it from him and drank it with more ease than the last one. You definitely felt yourself becoming tipsy, but considered it a good sign that your conscience knew you weren't completely sober.

"If you're going to get drunk, we're going to need to stay somewhere tonight."

"Or you could learn to drive." You responded, swinging one of the empty bottles back and forth in you hand. You looked at his slightly blurry annoyed face and sighed, "Fine, we'll go look for a motel."

"Or we could just, you know, stay here." When you sent him a questioning stare he nodded at a sign above the door that read 'One bed per night = $23, Two bed per night = $32'

 You shook your head and smiled, "You cause a lot of perfect coincidences, you know that?"

"The troubles of being an angel." He said with a sigh, then held up a hand before you could correct him, "Graceless angel. Whatever."

 You checked the time and figured the bar would still be open for few hours, but considered it easier to get a room while you could. You snatched up the laptop so that Lucifer would follow and headed back toward the bar. Jimmy smiled when he saw you approaching but it faltered when he noticed your trailing companion.

"Is he the one you were flirting with?" Lucifer leaned in close to you to ask. You gave a slow nod 'yes,' less curious as to his motives than you should have been. You blamed it on the alcohol.

The graceless angel smiled kindly as you approached the bar, then fastened an arm around your back and left a hand on your hip, pulling you into his side, "We'll need a room with  _one_ bed, please."

You got over the initial shock much faster than Jimmy did. You felt pity when you saw the distressed look on his face, but he quickly redeemed himself with a sly response, "Sorry, we're all out of that type of room. I can offer you one with two beds, if it's alright."

"That's absolutely fine, Jimmy." You intervened.

"Of course." Lucifer drawled, moving the hand on your hip up to play with your hair whilst staring the bartender dead in the eye, "We can use the other bed for luggage."

Instead of answering, Jimmy moved to the end of the bar to type a few things into the register. A piece of paper popped out of the top. He ripped it swiftly and made a point of handing it to you instead of Lucifer, "Your bill, (y/n). Drinks are on me."

You noted the absence of beer on the paper and grinned, then pointed at the only stairs you could see, "Thank you, I really appreciate it. Rooms are up there?"

He nodded and reached below the bar. He pulled out a key with a keychain that read a large number six, "That they are. Six is in the hall to the left."

Lucifer grabbed it and pulled you along to the staircase. You were just tipsy enough that fiddling with the laptop in your hands was what kept you from forgetting it was there and dropping it, so you were glad you hadn't been tasked with keeping track of a key as well.

"That was pointless." You muttered to him as he maneuvered you around tables.

"Nothing is ever pointless, (y/n)."

"So there was some deeper meaning to that whole thing, then?"

"No." He grinned, "It just wasn't without point."

You rolled your eyes but smiled. You went up the first step of the stairs, but Lucifer grabbed your waist and brought you back down. Your brain's instinct was to be immediately frustrated, "Oi, let me go upstairs."

He stared at the other side of the room where the bar was. He kept staring, so you turned your head to see what was so important to keep you from walking up a few steps. Before you could fully turn your face away, however, he grabbed your cheek with his free hand and brought it back to looking at him. Still with his hand on your face, Lucifer leaned forward and kissed you on the lips. Your frustration left you. Once again you felt that unnamed feeling in the pit of your insides. You couldn't tell whether it leaned more toward pleasure or surprise, but you didn't care to find out. Instead you fell into the kiss and kissed back rather passionately, tilting your head to one side to allow him better access.

Apparently this was not the reaction he was expecting, because he hesitated at your response and smiled, which ruined the whole goddamned thing. As soon as his hand fell from your face and he backed off a little you turned to try and see what he'd been staring at. It took a moment to occur to you, but you were irritated at yourself for not having guessed it sooner. Jimmy was wiping down the counters in a speedy fashion, as if flustered. Lucifer had kissed you when he knew the man would be looking just to further fuel the fire that was their stupid feud.

When you looked back at him he was smiling sheepishly. You glared, "Did you just kiss me further your point?"

"Well, no, I've been wanting to do that for a while now; I just waited for the right moment."

You shoved the laptop into his arms and took the key, then stomped up the stairs. He walked after you calmly, which pissed you off even more. You took the first hallway to the left and immediately found a door with a similar number six hanging on it's front. The key found it's way to the lock and allowed you inside.

 You swung open the door and stepped into the room.

And then you swung it shut behind you.

The breath slipped from your throat at the sight before you. You had to calm yourself from the shock of instant sobriety. Your brain pounded to keep up with your emotional processes.

When the air found it's way back to you, you gasped and said something loudly enough that you hoped it would sound through the door, "Balthazar?"

The angel plopped down into the only chair in the shabby room with a smirk and a tilt of his head, "Um, yes. Who're you shouting to? Is someone in the hallway?"

He lifted his hand and set his fingers in a motion that you knew would be a dramatic snap that sent him into the hallway whose entrance you were blocking. Your instincts told you that him seeing his brother would be disastrous for everyone involved. Even if you could somehow convince him that it was just Lucifer's vessel, there was no way it would fly with the other angels he would undoubtedly gossip to.

"No!" You shouted. He raised a brow in a suspicious manner, his fingers hesitating, "I mean, yes. There's someone in the hall but....I don't think it's a good idea for you to meet him. At least, not yet."

"You've already shouted my name." He chuckled, setting his arm down onto the armrest, "I think he knows I'm here."

You eyed the two single-person beds and hurried to sit on the edge of the one closest to Balthazar. You took a deep breath and leaned in toward him with a quiet voice, your only hope that he was too trusting of you to see through your bullshit, "Listen...he's...he's my boyfriend. He doesn't exactly know about all the 'angels and demons' stuff yet and I think it's better if I don't just spring it on him."

"You have a  _boyfriend_ and you don't want  _me_ to meet him?" He scoffed and put his hand to his chest in mock offense, "(y/n), I feel so betrayed. I'm like the big brother you never had!"

"I have a big brother, as you well know." You rolled your eyes at his smile and shook your head, "I'm really sorry, but now's just not a good time for me. Maybe we can talk later?"

Balthazar gave you that knowing look that he often did, which never failed to annoy you, "'Later' she says. You know, when I asked the bartender where you'd gone I didn't honestly believe the whole 'upstairs with a man' thing, but  _wow._ " He turned his nose up toward the ceiling and peeked at you through squinted eyelids, "You must be serious about this guy if you don't want me scaring him off, (y/n)."

You offered an apologetic smile, "I should probably let him into the room."

Balthazar stood up with a dramatic sigh and helped you to your feet, "Alright, fine. One more thing before I go -- should I question the two beds?"

"Bye, Balthazar."

He sent you a grin and a wink, then clicked his fingers and disappeared. You glanced at the mirror on the wall and frowned at your cracked reflection. Lying to Balthazar, one of your best friends in the whole world, made you feel sick. Almost to the point of physically convulsing. It took you a moment to realize that, given the option, you'd chosen to protect Lucifer's secret rather than expose him while you had the chance. You were more than positive that that action itself would get you verbally abused by many a religious persona.

When your eyes tore away from the mirror, it took a significant amount of effort to saunter over and open the door to Lucifer's curious face. Not only were you having to lie  _to_ one angel  _for_ another, but now you had to repeat every sickening word you'd said.

"What's wrong?"

"You mean why'd I slam the door in your face?" You suggested, opening said door back open and gesturing him inside.

"No." He hopped inside and glanced over the dirty place, "I mean why do you look so distressed?"

You shut the door behind you and locked it with the knowledge that a lock was nothing more than a mere clicking noise to anything non-human or non-hunter. The look you gave Lucifer must have been just as distressed because he tossed the laptop onto the same bed you'd been sitting on before, then stepped over to you to survey your face up close, "Balthazar. I heard. Do we have an issue? Should we leave the country?"

"What? No." You muttered, "Everything's fine."

"Everything doesn't look fine." He squinted his eyes, and placed his hands on your face so that he could lift it and search your eyes, "(y/n), do we have an issue?"

"Don't patronize me." You practically spat, yanking yourself back so that his hands fell, "What are you accusing me of? Do you think I'm lying to you? Really, Lucifer?"

He shrugged and crossed his arms in a calm manner but his eyes shone hostility, "Are you? Because if you are you should know that anyone who's after me will be after you too--"

"No shit." You responded bitterly, your fists clenching at your sides, "I'm not lying to  _you_ , dumbass, I lied to Balthazar. I lied to the man who gave me a home and a job and a nourished lifestyle for  _you_. You're starting to make me question why I even did it in the first place you stupid....you utter....you  _ass_."

As the fire in your words simmered down, so did the flames in Lucifer's expression. He took a deep breath, "Okay. I'm sorry."

"Damn straight you are." You growled, pushing past him to get to the small table in the center of the small room. You placed down your wallet and keys, then sat down in the chair where Balthazar had been only minutes prior. You set your head against the wall and contemplated questioning your obviously undeserved loyalty to your puppy dog of an ex-archangel.

It came as no surprise when the sound of Lucifer's footsteps reached the spot next to your chair.

"I know it's not easy for you."

You slowly opened one of your eyes and were surprised to find him sitting cross-legged on the ground next to you. Something about the way he was sitting looked almost defeated -- like a child who'd just lost a game of hide-and-seek and was now being forced to wait before seeking out his friends.

You opened both eyes gave him a questioning look. He lay his head back against the wall and stared up at your disgruntled face, "Helping me, I mean. There have got to be more willing people to do so in this world, and trust me, if there was another prophet I would have gone to them, but you....some part of you trusts me. Most people wouldn't even consider looking at my side of the coin if they knew who I really was."

You huffed a laugh, "Yeah, most people have trouble getting past the whole 'I want to exterminate the entire human race' thing."

His mouth pressed into a line and he glanced at one of the beds, "Yeah....how about we forget about all of that stuff. Just for one night."

Your cheeks grew heated at his rather blatant insinuation, "Uh, Lucifer, I like you a lot and I'd really like to take a break from everything for a while, but I'm not sure that the solution--"

" _Whoa._ " He looked back at you, eyes wide and a smirk dancing on his lips, "That's not exactly what I had in mind, but if that's what you'd like to spend this time doing...I mean, the bed's a little small but--"

You remembered the laptop he'd tossed onto the bed and hurried to change the subject when realization hit  you, "Wait, you mean 'forget all this stuff' like 'watch a movie and forget all this stuff'?"

He grinned, "If there's one thing I've learned from all the time I've been spending on the Internet, it's that  _any_ movie can be found pirated if you only search long enough."

You swallowed and tried desperately to push the blush from your cheeks, "Right. Fine. A movie sounds great."

"Well sure, a movie sounds great, but let's not rule anything out here--"

The blush burned on your face, "Shut up and go find your pirated movie, you ass."


	5. The Time is Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take a quick moment to thank all of you that continue to read, leave kudos, comment, bookmark, and subscribe to this story! It means a lot and your support is what keeps me writing. If you'd like to ask for an update of this, or just about my progress, feel free to contact me via my Tumblr account (dragonizz.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thanks again!

You hummed the Rolling Stones' famous  _Sympathy For the Devil_ under your breath as you brushed your teeth. The curtains you'd opened offered a fair amount of natural light to the ugly motel room, but that natural light did nothing more than illuminate the tiny dust particles the clung to everything. The mirror in front of you seemed to have the worst of it, considering that you had to wipe your hand across the thing just to catch an actual glimpse of your face. To your surprise, you looked fairly well for someone who'd spent days bathing in sleazy bathrooms. 

Your internal clock told you that you'd spent long enough pushing the brush across your pearly whites. Once the toothpaste spiraled down the drain and your toothbrush found its place back on the counter, you reached for the door handle just in time for a muted  _CRASH_ to sound. Your brain instantly went into "hunter mode." The gun that had previously remained on the belt at your hips was now in your hands. The door that had previously blocked you from the rest of the room was now open and knocking against the bathroom wall.

"Don't shoot." Lucifer mumbled between the piece of toast hanging from his mouth. His hands were raised above his head in a mock defensive manner.

Thinking you'd imagined the sound, you took a deep breath and lowered the pistol. The sandy-haired former archangel went to say something else just as four more  _CRASHES_ echoed in succession. It was clear now that they were coming from downstairs in the bar of the bar/motel. The gun gripped tight in your hands, you stalked over to the entrance of the motel room and motioned for Lucifer to follow.

He copied as you leaned with your back against the door, only instead of a weapon in his hands he held toast and a laptop.  _Your_ laptop, to be precise, which it now seemed he'd grown fond of. "What is it?"

 _CRASH. BOOM. CRASH._ You swallowed, trying to picture in your head what could possibly be causing so much raucous, "No idea. We're going to try and sneak down there to see what we're up against. We may or may not need to make a run for it. You remember where the car is parked?"

He gave you his 'I'm not an idiot' look. He grabbed your keys and wallet just in case.  _CRASH._ "(y/n)?"

"Yeah?" you asked in genuine concern, ready to open the door and possibly rush into a hunt.

"Don't die."

"Thanks, Luci."

With that you ripped open the door as quietly as possible. Which in hindsight wasn't really necessary, considering the fact that several loud crashes and booming voices covered up even the sound of your footsteps. Your angel followed quietly behind as you descended the carpeted stairway, pistol drawn at your side. You peeked around the corner just enough to see what was going on in the main room. Now, you weren't exactly sure what you were expecting, but it was  _not_ what you saw.

The only thing that stopped you from heaving up your breakfast was the shock (paired with the fact that vomiting would give you away like nothing else). Four -- no, five men paced in various sections of the completely demolished room, all eyes on the east wall. Several of them were drinking, toppling over chairs and tables as they strolled by. One was standing in the dead center of the room. Even though you could only see the back of his head, you knew a psychotic smile danced on his lips. The others cheered noisily as he pitched an empty beer bottle at the wall.

Formerly, the east wall had been littered with dusty knick-knacks and light-up electronic dart boards. An old photo must have covered a large portion of its left side. Currently, all that lay in shambles on the scratched wood flooring. The wall was now completely bare, save for the man clinging to it. The man  _nailed_ to it. Jimmy.

The glass exploded in shards on the bartender's chest. He groaned in agony and coughed up spouts of blood. His clothes were in tatters, the clear sign of a violent struggle, and blood gushed from so many places on his body it was hard to tell where the liquid began and his magenta shirt ended. The horror that caused you the most unease was the horrible job someone had done of stabbing the large, rusty nails through his wrists and ankles. They teetered jaggedly in various directions, threatening to fall with the impact of every new bottle. It didn't help that the deep red blood seeping from his appendages was pulsating, either.

As another man stepped into the center of the action to take his turn, you couldn't help yourself. You stepped out from behind the wall and cocked your gun before he could swing his beer. Every face but Jimmy's turned to you, amused.

Every pair of eyes flicked to pure black.

"Shit." You whispered.

Your non-dominant hand immediately went for the holy water you always kept in the bottle in your jacket, only to realize you'd left your jacket in your car the night before. Two of the demons closest to you advanced forward. Your heart was increasing at a rate so intensely fast that you thought it might just stop.

" _Don't touch her._ "

You dared shift your eyes from the demons to see Lucifer step out from behind the same place you'd been moments before. Each demon stopped in its tracks. You couldn't decide whether to be impressed with his bravery or his stupidity.

A bellowed laugh broke from one of the demon's throats. He stepped forward: he was tall, dark, and intimidating. You instinctively took a step back but Lucifer didn't move. Had he not been holding your belongings, you guessed that his arms would be lying confidently across his chest. 

The demon's eyes were still showing their true colors -- er, color, "Look at this one. Not even a hunter, yet he thinks he stands a chance against us. Do you know what horrors you face, mortal?"

Unblinking, Lucifer smirked and looked him straight in the eye, "Horrors? This is the best you can do? This is a sunday afternoon for me."

Ouch. The demon snarled. He'd been gradually moving closer to the ex-archangel and was now looming over him, fists clenched. Your eyes shifted to the man whimpering on the wall, covered in blood, and you flinched; it hurt being reminded just who exactly you were spending all your time with.

"A sunday afternoon?" He laughed bitterly. A wicked grin was plastered on his lips, "Who do you think you are,  _child?"_

You raised a brow, slightly intrigued as to how Lucifer was going to respond to such a comment. He glared fiercely and said a few sharp words. You thought at first that you hadn't heard right, but after a moment recognized the dialect of Enochian. For a brief second nobody moved or uttered a word. You glanced at Lucifer and then back to the demons in the room -- only to find that the creatures had disappeared along with their vessels.

Jimmy groaned in pain. Your eyes squinted and you turned in every direction, positive that one of the demons was going to pop up out of nowhere and ambush you at any moment.

"(y/n), get the barkeeper. We don't have long."

"Where did you send them? And...how?" you faced him and lowered your gun.

"Purgatory. I'll explain later.  _Get the barkeeper._ "

He jingled your keys and sauntered to the front door. You stowed the pistol into your waistband and hurried to the bloodied wall. Jimmy kept his head down and his quiet whimpers of pain going. You lifted his head to make sure he was still awake and breathing (which he was, thank God), then grabbed a nearby piece of dismantled chair to pry at the rusty nails in his flesh. It took a while to get the first one, but the others were easier after that.

As soon as his feet hit the floor, you threw his left arm over your shoulders and ushered him toward the front door. You tried desperately to ignore the shards of glass pushing into your side and the fresh waves of red liquid pouring from the hole in Jimmy's wrist onto your torso. The dead bodies you hadn't previously noticed were in a messy pile behind the counter, and your contempt toward the demons grew. You had little to no idea on what your timeframe was before the demons would show up again, so you shuffled Jimmy along as fast as possible to the Mustang whilst supporting his weight. His lack of complete consciousness was helping no one.

" _Finally._ " Lucifer sighed, opening the back door to the car which had already been started.

"Help would've been just dandy." You huffed, helping the bartender to lay on the backseat. As soon as he was situated in a way that you hoped would cause him the least amount of pain, you shut the door and prepared to hop into the driver's seat -- only to find a certain ex-angel already sitting there.

You raised a brow in your most scrutinizing manner possible, "This isn't the time, Lucifer. We need to get to the hospital before he bleeds out."

"Exactly." he nodded sideways at the passenger seat, "There's no time to argue! I recommend you get in before I drive off without you."

A million things crossed your mind in terms of what you wanted to say. Half of them were irritated insults and the other half were incredibly furious accusations, the most prominent being, ' _Oh, so the Devil lied to me about being able to drive. Imagine that: The king of lies telling a lie._ ' But unfortunately, he was right. Starting an argument in such a sensitive situation wasn't going to help. You rushed to the passenger side and had your seatbelt on and door closed before either of you could say a thing.

 Lucifer wasted no time in kicking the machine into reverse and speeding away from the bar. To your great displeasure, however, he took the road back toward the highway instead of the large and clearly obvious hospital in the opposite direction.

"What the Hell are you doing?"

"Spring Valley, remember?"

Your eye twitched, "Spring Valley is an hour away. I know you aren't the biggest on saving human lives but Jimmy needs to get to--"

"Yeah, yeah. The hospital." he snapped, squinting at the road as he sped, "We're dropping him off at the one in Spring Valley.  _Don't start arguing._ If we bring him into the one at his hometown, our faces are going to be recognized. First they'll ask questions, then point fingers, and before you know it we'll be locked up. Besides, if I drive fast enough we'll be at that other town in no time. I've got the map memorized."

For a moment you sat in silence (well, if the constant groans of pain in the background counted as silence). Another moment though and you were using an accusatory tone, "Speaking of you driving--"

"My vessel knew how to drive. I just racked his brain a bit while you grabbed the bartender. Sorry,  _Jimmy_. Anything else you want to yell at me for?"

You took a deep breath, your arms crossed tightly across your chest, "You didn't have to lie about it."

At that the car slowed down significantly, as if he'd taken his foot off the pedal for a brief few seconds, and he looked you straight in the eye, "I never said I couldn't drive. I'll never lie to you, (y/n)."

The emotions in  your belly that followed his sentiment were stuffed down. You stared straight back, "The absence of truth is still a lie, Lucifer."

Another few seconds of intense staring followed. After that he stared back at the road, sped up again (your eyes and your conscience conveniently avoided the speedometer), and sat in the "silence."

Jimmy's gasps drew you from your thoughts. Your hunter instincts kicked in. You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached under your seat to grab the conveniently placed medical kit you'd only used once years before. Realizing that there was no way you could treat his wounds from so far away, you climbed over the armrest between you and Lucifer to sit down on the back floor next to Jimmy. You popped open the emergency kit and smiled up at Jimmy (whilst trying to show the least amount of pity as possible) to survey his wounds. You would clearly need alcohol, tweezers, bandages, wrap, painkillers, a splint (or two), and more.

You asked Lucifer to turn on the radio as you worked. Without speaking, he flipped it to the first station that came in clearly and left it there -- even though the song mentioned a devil's advocate.

 

 

 

"You think we'll ever see him again?" you asked Lucifer as the two of you walked briskly out of Spring Valley Hospital, "You know, assuming he lives?"

He simply shrugged, "Does it matter?"

The loss of words he left you with made the absence of words a bit uncomfortable. Ever since you'd brought up his lie about being able to drive, Lucifer had been inclined only to speak when asked a question. If you were being honest with yourself, you had to admit that you weren't enjoying the quiet as much as you thought you might. The walk to the Mustang was more excruciating than you were willing to admit. Part of you was beginning to hate how clingy your thoughts must have sounded.

As soon as the car was running and he was situated in the passenger seat, you made a point of asking, "So how did you do that thing with the demons? I didn't even know Purgatory existed. Always thought it was a myth."

"Purgatory is, as you might call it, 'the place where monsters go after they die.' Similar to how my power can't be held in any ordinary vessel for too long, demons can't stay in Purgatory for an extended amount of time without being ripped back down to Hell. And as for how I knew about the spell at all -- it was read to me from an old, stone tablet once."

His block of information hit you like a pile of bricks. You took a moment to process one thing at a time, then slowly nodded, "Okay...yeah. I mean, I guess that makes sense. So the demons are back up here by now, correct?"

"Correct." He shifted his head so that he could give you an intense stare to stress the importance of his next words, "Which is why we're on a time limit now. It shouldn't be long before those  _things_ go running to their master and it shouldn't be long before  _he_ figures out that I'm not locked up any longer. Before he finds us, (y/n), we need to find my grace."

You nodded in understanding, a bit annoyed that he refused to speak Crowley's name even now. Once he laid back in his seat, however, you forgot your annoyance and set your mind to finding that church. Up until the current point, you'd been set on finding Lucifer's grace so that he wouldn't kill you. Now, you knew you had to find his grace so that he could protect you.


	6. Hello, Minnesota! Goodbye, Minnesota.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eek! All the support and feedback I am receiving is wonderful! Thank you all for continuing to read this story. :)

"I don't feel anything." Lucifer sighed as you drove up to the curb near the church.

"Are you sure it isn't one of those things where you don't feel it until you see it?" You wondered aloud.

You parked carefully at the curb and turned the engine off. He rolled his eyes at your comment, "That sounds mildly sexual."

"Only mildly?" you joked, hopping out of the Mustang and giving the church a once-over. Even though the church itself wasn't what you were interested in, you had to admit that it had a beautifully crafted architecture to it.

"Afternoon!"

You shifted your eyes to the far right of the building where a woman stood, waving. You greeted her in return and nodded toward the large field behind the church, "Excuse me, do you know what happened to the rocks from the meteor shower near here a few days ago?"

She hurried over to you as you spoke, then stopped when she was a few feet away. Her round figure and curly hair bounced as she spoke, a smile plastered on her face, "Ah, I suppose you came for the auction then? That's too bad! It was cancelled when someone came here a day after the shower and offered double the asking price. The church couldn't turn down that kind of offer, you know?"

"Just our luck." Lucifer grumbled, squinting warily at the sky.

As much as it hurt to admit, he had a point. At the rate you were rolling at, there was no way you were going to find his grace before someone started chasing the two of you down. Nevertheless, there was no way you were going to give up on a lead so easily.

You smiled kindly at the woman, "Can we see where the rocks landed?"

She nodded cheerfully and pointed past the church, "Just head due east from here and you should find the holes right in the middle of the field. So smack-dab in the middle in fact you might think the meteors were aiming for it!"

You thanked her and walked past the car, then Lucifer, then the church. He followed drearily, still completely certain that by this point he would have felt his grace. You ignored his grumbles about the heat, pushing through the tall grass in search of craters in the ground where meteors had once been. You walked for almost five minutes before you figured you'd gone to far and turned to double back. Just as you turned, however, Lucifer caught you by the shoulders and spun you to your right where, sure enough, not fifty feet in front of you laid ten or so freshly impaled holes in the earth.

"Still nothing?" you asked. 

"Nada."

Unsure as to why you expected anything different, you approached the crater site and inspected each one -- of which there were nine. The only prominent feature was the fact that there was one big crater surrounded by several smaller ones. As far as you could tell, none of the rocks had been left behind and no one had tampered with anything. Whether forgetting one of the meteors behind would have helped with your investigation, you had no idea.

The ex-archangel circled each hole, clearly less interested in the whole incident than you were. But when he reached the largest crater, Lucifer stopped dead. You stood straighter like a dog hearing its owner speak, "Is it your grace?"

"It's..." he bent down so that he was squatting and then reached forward to touch the center of the crater. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then stood almost instantaneously with a lively grin on his cheeks. Before you could ask, he rushed over to envelop you in a hug.

You smiled widely, glad to have 'happy Satan' back from his hiatus, and hugged him back, "It's your grace, right? Do I even have to ask?"

He kept you in the hug and spun you around, somehow not stepping in one of the many surrounding holes, "Ah (y/n), it's a good thing you thought of coming here. I'm impressed with your investigative skills. I take back everything I said about hunters in the past."

You giggled, nearly having a fit, and had to strain to compose yourself when he finally set you down, "So it's your grace, correct?"

"It's...something."

You raised a skeptical brow. He placed one elbow in one hand and used the other to tap his temple as he paced, "All angels can sense other angels' grace. The more powerful the angel, the easier it should be to detect their grace -- assuming its not under enchantment or curse."

"Okay..."

"And although it's doubtful that my grace is under an enchantment or a curse, its possible."

You squinted at him, trying to find the point in his words, "So what you're saying is...?"

"This," he stopped his pacing in front of you and gestured toward the largest crater, "at one point, definitely held an angel's grace. But its too faded to tell whose. Could be mine, could be some low-ranking whatever that got it lost on earth."

"So it's a guessing game." you told more than asked.

"Well assuming that not many others have recently been cast down to fend for themselves, the probability that it's mine is pretty high."

"In that case we should probably go after the guy who bought these meteors as soon as possible."

He grinned and set off toward the church in the distance, "Look at you, on top of things as usual!"

You restrained yourself from making a "that's what she said" joke and hurried after him, careful not to trip on one of the holes and fall flat on  your face. The walk back to the structure took considerably less time now that the two of you knew exactly where you were going and Lucifer's pace was that of excitement.

The woman, whose name you still didn't know and figured wasn't important by this point, was in the same spot she'd been when you left. You now realized that she'd been setting up a table of some kind on the lawn of the church. It was decorated in full with a nice tablecloth and matching overhang with the words "Bake Sale" clearly printed across the front.

"Excuse me." Lucifer approached the table and gave a polite smile. She looked absolutely delighted that the both of you had returned to speak to her. He continued, "What was the name of the man who bought the, er, meteors? And where did he go?"

"Oh! Just wait one moment." She hurried into the church.

"What's she doing?"

You shrugged, "Bringing us all his credentials hopefully."

He crossed his arms and sighed dramatically, tapping his foot to exaggerate his impatience. You rolled your eyes, "Luci, chill."

A smirk danced on to his face, "You know, that nickname is--"

"Here they are!" The stumpy woman called out, jogging down the steps to hand you a folder, "These are all the papers the man needed to fill out to buy the auction items. I remembered we had these when you two were eyeing the field. I hope it helps!"

You thanked her and she jogged back over to the Bake Sale stand. You eagerly opened the folder and scanned for a name.

"Isn't this, ya'know, illegal?" Lucifer questioned as he peeked at the papers over your shoulder.

You huffed a laugh, "It's a small town in the countryside. Everyone knows everything about everybody. The definitions of legal and illegal are bound to bend a little."

"Seems pretty nonsensical."

You continued to flip through page after page describing the meteors and their value, still no identity to be found, "Isn't the Devil supposed to condone chaos?"

The way he chuckled in your ear sent shivers down your spine. You tried to ignore them, "Chaos and nonsense are different. Pick up a dictionary, (y/n)."

"Here!" you exclaimed, finally finding a picture of a very burly-looking man in a fancy suit, "Says his name is Gerard Renboyce. He lives in uptown Denver, Colorado, owns three houses, and collects 'earthly artifacts.'"

"A rich, snobby collector. Great. Next you're going to tell me he's a gambler who always has bodyguards with him."

You ignored his comment and tried to calculate the distance in your head. You checked the time, "With minimal stops we could get there at about....7 AM tomorrow morning. That is assuming you're okay with driving for half the night."

"Anything to get my grace back." He grinned triumphantly and marched toward the car, humming to himself. You mentally prepared yourself for yet another road trip with the Devil before taking a picture of the files the woman had allowed you to look over. After you were satisfied that you wouldn't be needing them back, you brought them to her, thanked her again, and sauntered over to the Mustang. Lucifer was incredibly giddy which you knew would wear off as soon as his boredom was reclaimed, but knowing that fact didn't hinder your amusement. 

"Food now or later?" you asked as you pulled the Mustang off the curb and navigated your way to the westward highway.

"Later. If this is my grace we're after, we need to be there as soon as possible; I can't risk one of my  _rowdy_ siblings snatching it up first."

"You'll disagree when you're hungry."

He waved you off and began humming to himself. You recognized it as the same song he'd been humming in the past and were about to ask the name when it hit you, "Is that...is that Stairway to Heaven?"

He sent you a skeptical look from the corner of his eye and nodded, still humming. You couldn't keep the smirk off your face, "So nothing against religious music if it's a little Zeppelin, right?"

He gave you a look of pure irritation, "It's one of the few songs I actually know, okay? I heard it when I was freed from the cage a few years back."

"No need to get defensive." you chuckled. He scoffed. When you regained your composure you couldn't help but ask, "Who freed you from the cage anyway?"

Every line on his face conveyed annoyance. When you shrugged he answered, "Minions, hunters. It was this whole ordeal from what I understand."

You sniffed at his words. Before he could ask, you answered by repeating his word usage, "Minions. Makes it sound like you're some evil villain."

His voice dropped to a more serious tone, "It may surprise you to hear it, (y/n), but to most people I am."

"Most people don't know you. Most people don't even listen to your side of the story." Silence followed your words. You glanced at his expression, hoping to find some sort of emotion but finding only a blank stare. You made an effort to lighten the mood, "Besides,  _good_ minions don't turn their backs on you as soon as there's a higher bidder. The demons are more ungrateful children than minions...wouldn't you say?"

"Me? Children? Please." You relaxed at his casual demeanor.

For whatever reason, your mouth would not stop moving. You always had a new question or idea to throw at Lucifer, "Speaking of your children...what about the antichrist? Is that for real or just another fairy tale to make you look bad?"

He sighed, forever annoyed by your constant barrage of inquiries, "Oh, the antichrist is real alright."

"So..." you avoided his gaze a bit awkwardly, "you have a child, or...?"

"What? No." The way he rolled his eyes was not subtle, "A demon has a child. And that child is, coincidentally, one of the first beings I will seek out when we actually get my grace back."

You let the new wave of information wash over you without much thought as usual, "Are you sure you want to be telling me what you'll be doing when you're angelic again?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well I sort of figured..." you took a slow breath, prepared to explain yourself to Lucifer. But before you could the sensation of a wrecking ball colliding with the back of your head took the words out of your mouth. Your heartbeat sped up and your vision began to fade. A prophecy.

_A room the size of a football stadium erupted into view. Bright, yellow lights shone everywhere -- reflected from everything. Hundreds of people spoke in high and low voices. They shuffled amongst each other and still stepped gracefully together. A booming voice called over the crowd, it's words muffled..._

"STOP THE DAMNED CAR."

Reality seeped through your vision in blotchy holes. As soon as you recognized that Lucifer was yelling at you to halt the death machine you were driving, your right foot hit the brake with an astounding thud and the car's tires screeched impressively. You immediately fumbled for the shifter, unable to concentrate on the blaring horns sounding outside or the terrified voice at your ear. You doubt your hand had even reached the halfway point before the vision forced it's way back into your senses...

_The same voice from before teetered off on a high note. A very quiet set of murmurings followed for the smallest fraction of a second. Then cheers erupted. Claps echoed and words of content bounced off the walls._

_Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a bright light exploded. Brighter than anything the people had ever seen before. So bright that faces turned away. So bright that eyes rolled back into their sockets and burned. The commotion that followed was too much._

Everything went black.

 

 

 

Your eyes groggily blinked awake. How long had you been asleep? Minutes? Hours? Days? It didn't help that you couldn't even remember  _going_ to sleep in the first place.

It took a moment or two for your surroundings to kick in. The ceiling was close, dark. Ominous trees and distant mountains passed by the window at your feet. The walls at your sides were just a bit too snug. You were in the back seat of the Mustang.

A coat had been placed over you as substitute for a blanket. You smiled slightly to yourself at the mental image of Lucifer carefully placing his coat over your sleeping body. Lucifer. You reminded yourself of who must have been driving and sat up slowly, stretching as far as your arms would allow.

The exhale from the driver's seat was nothing short of relieved, "You're okay. Thank the freaking heavens."

"Okay?" you thought aloud.

"Please tell me you remember." you shook your head slowly, holding his coat to your chest. He sighed, "You had a...vision while you were driving. Almost killed us both. Thanks for that, by the way."

The memories clicked back into place in a rather dramatic fashion. You cringed, recalling the immense pain you'd felt being pulled out of a vision, "I remember now; and just for future reference, don't interrupt a prophet while she's having a vision. It hurts like Hell."

"Hurts like Hell." He repeated the phrase under his breath in a mocking manner, then spoke louder, "I know, I know. I had to. Like I said, you were going to kill us. It's lucky that I know how to drive and that you're easy enough to move."

You pictured in your head Lucifer rushing to get you in the backseat and hurriedly get the car back up to driving speed. He'd probably had to turn the emergency lights on in order to avoid getting hit. You smiled in spite of yourself and rubbed your eyes with a yawn, "What time is it?"

"2AM. Ish."

You blinked a few times in astonishment, "You must be super tired. You want me to drive the rest of the way?"

"I'm fine." He spoke his next words more jokingly, "We don't want a repeat of earlier anyways, do we?"

"I suppose not." He laughed with you. You draped his coat back over your front like a blanket and held it there, "Do I have permission to go back to sleep then?"

"If you insist." His words were quiet. Silence filled the air and you realized that the radio hadn't been on probably since he'd placed you in the backseat. Who knows how long he would've listened and waited for you to awaken? Feeling flattered, you leaned forward and placed your lips on his cheek. He tilted his head ever so slightly in your direction, but gave no other indication of his acknowledgement. When you leaned back to lay back down on the seat, surrounded by the scent of him in his clothing, though, the smile you spied in the mirror was unmistakable.


	7. Doubt

Light-carpeted floors. Large window with curtains. Bed with more than two pillows.  _Chocolates on the freaking pillows._ A bathroom the size of a real bathroom. An expansive minibar.

You knocked off everything on your mental checklist as you surveyed the room in front of you, "It's official. I've been a hunter on and off for four years and this is the nicest hotel I've ever stayed in."

Completely unappreciative of the quality of the room, Lucifer dropped half the luggage at the door and leapt onto the queen-sized bed. He sprawled across it and sighed deeply. You couldn't blame him, either. He'd spent nearly 17 hours driving you around during most of which you were unconscious and consequently, in his words, unable to subdue his boredom.

You set the rest of the luggage down near the bathroom and moved over to the mini fridge you hadn't even spotted beforehand. You swung open its door and smiled at its interior, then called out to your sleep-deprived companion, "You hungry?"

His lack of a response set you on edge because you knew how easily he succumbed to hunger, but that edge dissipated when you saw his sleeping face. You grinned, grabbed a breakfast burrito for yourself, and walked over to completely shut the curtains so that the early morning sunlight would not interrupt his slumber.

As you ate, you sat down on a fairly comfortable chair next to the bed and scrolled through the pictures on your phone. When the grizzled face of none other than Gerard Renboyce stared back at you, you made yourself comfortable and began reading and rereading the limited information you had on the man.

 

 

Less than three hours after your arrival you'd finished going over Gerard's credentials, eaten breakfast, explored the hotel (which had a pool, hot tub,  _and_ sauna), gotten gas in the Mustang, and quietly surfed the channels on the room's large TV. You'd been prepared to wait until the late afternoon, but it didn't come as much of a surprise when Lucifer began to stir next to you on the bed at 11 in the morning.

"You can go back to sleep." you informed him as you skipped a few channels. You'd moved a few of the pillows so that you could comfortably prop your back against the bedframe and sat in a position that you figured wouldn't bother him in his dream state.

 "Nah," he yawned, stretching to lay his forearms under the pillow as he groggily eyed you, "Who needs sleep anyway?"

"Humans." you replied without skipping a beat.

He huffed a laugh through his nose, then stretched again and flipped onto his back so that he could see the TV clearly, his disinterest shone.

He hopped off of the bed onto two steady feet and glanced from the window to you, "What's his name.....Jerry something? Let's go check him out."

"Gerard Renboyce." you clarified, fairly certain that he already knew the man's name and was just being coy. You hit the red button on the remote and grabbed anything and everything you might need, if even for just an interview. Lucifer was already walking out the door as you took the keys in hand, following at a rushed pace.

You wondered how long it would be before you'd have to start conning people out of their money in order to pay for such fantastic living spaces as you moved, with purpose, through the hotel's halls. But the thought was pushed to the back of your mind (and therefore deemed as less important) when you arrived at your beautiful Mustang, which had been parked near your room by a valet. Once you were inside and driving away from the hotel, your thoughts found their way back to that purpose of what you were doing in Denver in the first place.

"Look up his address again on my phone, will you?" you asked, nodding towards the cupholder where your phone sat.

He took a moment to find the picture and squinted at the screen. He said the address aloud, you thanked him, and he continued to mess with your phone.

You hesitated, about to tell him to put it down now that it'd done its deed but decided against it and instead said, "Just don't talk to anyone. You've already lied to my clients plenty."

Just as he always did when you mentioned his lying tendencies, Lucifer got offended. He sent you a glare, which might have scared you had you not known how childish he really could be, and defiantly continued to look at the contents of your mobile device.

You allowed him to do as he pleased with it like you had with the laptop. Arguing with him was something you did not feel like doing and you were too focused on trying to find Renboyce's address in a city that was much larger than those you were used to to care. Not a minute after going through God knows what on your phone, Lucifer leaned over at a red light to show you a picture, "Who's that?"

You squinted at the image, first taking in the too-tall-for-such-a-low-ceiling pine tree in the background, then the various colored boxes littering the wood floor, then the mistletoe and holly-strung walls, and finally yourself and the man standing next to you. He shared not only your smile, but your eye color and posture as well. Fond memories of the day flooded back into your mind, causing you to grin nostalgically. 

A honk brought you out of your reverie. You quickly gathered yourself and turned back to traffic, where the light had turned green and you were still sitting at the light. You hit the gas, slightly embarrassed, and answered Lucifer's question as you reverted back to searching for the house, "My brother, Joseph."

He brought the screen back to his face to stare at it again and smirked, "Figures that you'd have a brother."

"Love to hate 'em, right?" you responded, grinning.

"You have no idea."

You dropped your smile when Renboyce's street came into view. It hit you now, for the first time it  _really_ hit you, that this could be it. Lucifer's grace could be ten minutes out of reach. Within the next hour he could be spreading his wings and commanding his demons and you'd still be just you -- only without a divine purpose.

"(y/n), you okay?" he questioned, voice teetering on the tone of concern.

"I'm fine." you replied easily, peering at the addresses on the mansions you were passing by, "Why?'

"Well, that was the most grim expression I've ever seen someone have while turning a corner."

"I'm fine." you repeated, unsure whether you were trying to convince him or yourself. He looked like he was going to ask something else, but just then it came into view, "That's it!"

Lucifer shifted his gaze to the monster of a house at the end of the street. He whistled in astonishment, "If there's a place worthy to have my grace inside it, it's that."

You couldn't help but agree as you pulled into the driveway that stretched around the sides, practically a parking lot. You took a moment to admire the thing with its gigantic double doors, symmetrically placed series of windows, and beautiful deep red exterior. From where you sat in your car you counted five floors, no doubt plus a basement or cellar of some kind. No matter how much you appreciated the living space that Balthazar had endowed upon you, this place put it to shame.

The two of you were up and out of the car, then at the door in what seemed like seconds, both too excited to speak. The small version of a plan you'd put together seemed silly now when the mansion stood looming over you intimidatingly; however, you knew it still had to be given a shot.

Lucifer had knocked on the door only twice before it was opened by a man in a tux of about your age. He greeted both of you with a polite, although questioning, smile. It was immediately obvious that he was a servant or caterer of some kind.

"Good afternoon." You greeted him warmly with your best 'I'm definitely not here for suspicious reasons' smile, "We'd like to speak to Mr. Renboyce."

He kept that same questioning smile, "Mr. Renboyce isn't welcoming guests until tonight. Am I right to assume that the gala is your reason for visit?"

"Of course." Lucifer cut in, sharing that same polite expression only with a hint of impatience, "We were in the neighborhood and we simply wanted to stop by and make sure that we were correctly placed on the guests list."

"If you'd give me your names I'll gladly check." he raised a brow as if he doubted your story, "Mister and missus...?"

In somewhat of a last ditch attempt, you dropped your smile and lifted your chin slightly, glaring down at him, "You expect us to trust  _you_ with the task? If you want something done right you have to do it yourself. Bring me the list so I can see it with my own eyes."

His smile turned to a smirk. Crap. He opened his mouth to do nothing other than shoo you away, or so you assumed, so you quickly grabbed the phone from your pocket and pretended to dial a number, "Fine then. I suppose I'll just have to call Gerard myself and inform him that his staff is treating honored guests so poorly." You turned around and obnoxiously plugged your ear with your free hand, trying your hardest to act as if you were calling the man's employer.

"Okay! Okay." You turned on your heel as he spoke, smiling and pretending to hit the end button, then placing the device back into your pocket. The man gave a half-bow, "I'll be right back with the list. My apologies."

He disappeared off down the hall, the doors left open. You glanced at Lucifer, whose gaze was nothing short of impressed. You grinned at him and stared back down the hall, only to have that grin falter. From where you stood, you could clearly see a magnificent ballroom being stocked with all kinds of food and drink. Its wide expanse of a floor was polished and glimmering, reflecting the golden yellow lights on the high ceiling. Your stomach turned.

"Luci," you spoke quietly, unable to tear your eyes from the familiar scene, "That's the room from my vision."

"The one in the car?" he asked. You'd told him about it just before getting checked into the hotel. Until now, he'd expressed that he'd had as little knowledge of its meaning as you.

You nodded, recalling the enormous crowd of people in the vivid recollection, "Whatever's going to happen...it happens here, tonight."

The boy showed up at the door again with a clipboard on his arm. He handed it to you, looking more apologetic now than skeptical. You grabbed it, flipped a page or two, memorized the first couples' names that you saw and handed it back, "All is good. I suspect we'll be treated with more hospitality at seven?"

"Er, the gala starts at eight."

"Isn't that what I said?"

"That's what I heard." Lucifer smiled without taking his eyes from the man.

The man gave another half-bow, a little more awkwardly this time, and closed the double doors. You and your ex-angel walked back to the car with a triumphant stride.

"Describe your vision to me one more time." Lucifer commanded as you got into the car.

You spoke as you drove, "Okay.....like I told you, it was a huge room, like the one in that house, where people were talking and walking around and....dancing, maybe? And there was this voice off to the side; I think someone was giving a speech. After that people were clapping and cheering and suddenly there was this bright white light. People were freaking the Hell out and then I just--"

"Blacked out."

"Correct." You nodded once in acknowledgement.

He grabbed your arm to get your attention, "Are you sure the light was white? Not sort of...bluish?"

"Positive."

"(y/n)." he said your name so that you'd actually look at him. When you did you couldn't help but reciprocate the grin on his face, "Do you know what that sounds like?"

"Uh..." you racked your brain for anything relating to 'incredibly bright light', "No?"

"It sounds like what happens when an archangel reclaims his grace."

You let out a short breath of shock, "So tonight..."

"Is  _the_ night."

The blue in his eyes shone excitedly and a toothy smile spread across his cheeks. For a moment you were so caught up in his beauty that you forgot to show emotion. You smiled back, trying to hide the uncertainty in your brow.

Never before had you been a part of your own visions. You had no idea if later that night would be the exception, or if something would happen to you in the next few hours that would make sure no such exception took place. 

"Pull over here."

You already had the car turning into the parking lot before you asked, "Why?"

The lights under the sign flashed "CLOTHING" and you were able to answer your own question, "We're going shopping?"

"We've got a  _gala_ to attend." He said in a pretentious tone, grinning and sliding out of the car.

You grabbed your wallet, frowned at the cash inside, and met him at the front of the Mustang. A wind was picking up that definitely had not been there before and it pushed the hair around your face and chilled the skin you'd left exposed. You held your jacket closer to yourself and turned to go inside just as Luci grabbed your wrist, spun you around, and planted a warm kiss on your lips. You relaxed at the sensation and wrapped your arms around his middle, instantly feeling cozier in the bleak weather. You turned your head slightly to the side just to see if he'd go for the bait; he did.

His warm tongue caressed your upper lip and you parted them almost instantly, allowing his tongue to slip inside and dance along your own. His hands, which you'd been paying less and less attention too, were now kneading at your upper hips. The moan that fell from your throat caused him to growl almost animalistically in response. It wasn't until your hips were moving against his that you realized what you were doing in a parking lot. Classy.

You broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against his cheek, "We should go into the store."

You had to physically bite down on your lip to avoid making sexual noises in a public setting as his lips left lingering touches on your neck, "You know what I realized?"

He continued to trail kisses along your shoulder and all the way up to your jawline. Over his shoulder you witnessed a woman across the parking lot sending you atrociously dirty looks. You couldn't imagine what she'd say if she knew exactly  _who_ you were making out with, "What?"

Your breath hitched when his face was suddenly in front of yours, eyes scrutinizing your very soul. His hips ground against yours once again and this time the growing presence there was unmistakable. Your eyes struggled to stay open and your breathing became labored as he spoke in a husky tone at your lips, "Humans have urges."

The way you kissed him was nothing short of greedy. You were completely certain that the only reason clothes weren't coming off was because you weren't in any sort of a private setting. You kissed him slowly but surely once more.

With somewhat of a great effort, you broke the kiss and retracted your arms from his back. He leaned his forehead against yours, sighed, then smirked and began making his way with you to the store.

"Buy a black dress, okay?" He asked rather nonchalantly. 

Your lips still tingled and your knees were still a bit weak, but you tried to focus now on current events, "Why black?"

"So we can match, obviously."

You shrugged and said a quick, "Fine." The matters happening later that evening were a bit more important to you than what you'd be wearing, but obviously he did not feel the same way. 

Once you were inside he pointed to the ground at your feet, "I'll meet you here in an hour."

"Alright." You waved towards the men's section as if to shoo him off, but he stayed. You raised a questioning brow as that signature smirk spread across his face. He cupped both sides of your face and leaned forward to gingerly place a kiss on your lips. He then smiled again and sauntered off towards the left side of the store. You tried to reciprocate his happiness, but unlike him you weren't so ready accept his predictions of what would be happening at the gala. Part of you hoped he was right, but a larger part of you knew:

Something was going to go wrong.


	8. A Graceful Encounter

"Get a black dress! We can match!" You mocked, repeating Lucifer's words from a few hours before.

You'd done as he'd asked, of course, and found a rather elegantly flowing dark dress with beautifully laced patterns and sleeves. And what had he done? He'd gone and bought an entirely white tux. Not only was it the complete opposite of your outfit, but it in no way "matched" your dress as he'd thought it would.

Now he stood before you, wearing the thing along with an expression of self-satisfaction. "And I'll tell you again," he grinned slightly, extending his arms outwards at his sides in a confident manner, "black and white go together like hookers and cocaine."

"We're going to stand out, you know. That's kind of the exact opposite of what we want." you grumbled, picking at a loose string on your sleeve.

He rolled his eyes and stepped toward you slowly, "We were going to stand out anyway. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?"

You twirled so that the dress' layers flowed, "I do look pretty good, don't I?"

Before you could spin again he caught you at the waist, smiling in a way that made you very heart throb, and leaned in for a kiss. You accepted and reciprocated it easily, focusing on the softness of it and the small smile at the edges of his lips.

He was happy for now, and that was something you needed to relish in. Later that night could be it: The goal reached; the objective achieved. And who knows what would happen after that? A very, very small part of you spoke up with terrified choruses of, 'will I ever see him again?' but you stuffed those thoughts down into the recesses of your mind and forced yourself to focus on other things. Happier things. Like kisses.

 When he pulled away and cupped your face in his hands, your eyes searched for every detail they could catch. The shine of excitement in his cold blue eyes, the slight tussle of his unaltered blond hair, and the very confidence itself that eminated from his smile caused the world to cave in on the rest of your vision and your focus to remain on him and him alone. What a beautiful, stunning archangel he was.

You hadn't realized he'd asked a question until you were hearing the upturn in his voice for a second time. He shook his head slowly, a bit more amused than annoyed, and repeated himself when you asked him to, "I asked if you were ready to go."

"Er, yeah. Just one more."

He raised a brow, but caught on fairly quickly when you closed the distance between your faces for a second time. You kept your eyes peeked open just long enough to watch his relaxation unfold, then closed them and waited for him to break off the kiss. You almost wished he never would.

Next thing you knew you were in the passenger seat of your car, watching the nightlife pass by. Big cities had always seemed bigger to you in the nighttime, what with all the bright lights and reserved people and mysteries beyond the walls of each structure you moved by. In truth it was hardly different at all from the day, only it was portraying a different color scheme.

"Left." You gave Lucifer directions as he drove, glancing at him as he spun the steering wheel around. As the light of some neon sign flooded into the cab of the car, you caught a view of him sitting in an almost "model pose" in his tux. You nearly cursed at yourself under your breath. No matter how pissed you were at him for his choice of color, he looked _damn fine_ in that outfit, "Isn't that kind of cliche?"

"Me, driving? I asked if you wanted to but--"

"No no not that." You waved the thought away, "You wearing white. White represents purity and you represent...is impurity included in the definition of 'everything bad to ever exist ever'?"

He chuckled, the sound jarring you a little after expecting an irritated retort, "You say that as if anyone who has ever worn white is pure. Humans have never been pure, (y/n)."

"No thanks to you." You practically scoffed.

"It's not my fault that women in gardens listen to every serpant they come across."

"Take the next right."

The playful conversation came to an anxious close when Lucifer pulled into the driveway of none other than Gerard Renboyce. You surveyed the place. For the most part, it seemed that people were either just arriving or just walking into the doors, which was good on account of you needing to provide the names of a couple who couldn't get inside before you and Lucifer. The lights from indoors illuminated only the first and second floors; outdoors, the entire drive was surrounded by the dull glow of short yellow lamplights. The intense red of the walls and the shining green of the wet grass shone under all the brightness.

 "Oh, lovely. I'll be reclaiming my grace as it's raining." He muttered, parking the Mustang in front of a valet.

You quickly grabbed your bag from the floor and double checked that you had your essentials: Your phone, your ID, your holy water, and your pistol. Once you mentally checked off each item, you allowed for Lucifer to pass off the car keys to the valet. 

You, him, and most of the other guests hurried to slip in line for the door, desperately trying to protect yourselves from the steadily growing downpour of liquid. 

"It's a little too dark for 7:30 on an  autumn evening." You observed, glaring accusingly at the gray and black cloud-obstructed sky.

"We are in Colorado." Lucifer responded dully, eyeing the exterior of the mansion, "...hm. Interesting."

You followed his gaze, but saw nothing of note on the outer walls of the place, "Do I have to ask?"

He absentmindedly rubbed your back as he spoke, "There are all sorts of ancient angelic sigils everywhere that were definitely not there earlier today. Whoever put them up knows their stuff. Perhaps we shouldn't have walked into this so readily."

 _That's what I've been saying_ , "I don't see anything...?"

"You wouldn't. I'll take a wild guess here and say that our host doesn't want his precious guests to be scared off by 'occultist garbage'...or whatever they'd call it."

"Wouldn't surprise me if their brains skipped right over 'occult' and assumed 'Satanic.'"

He snickered at your comment. The two of you moved slowly forward in line, your thoughts becoming slightly more anxious as you approached the man checking off peoples' names on the guest list. Somehow, your luck just continued to freakin' improve; the man holding the list was the same exact man whom you'd spoken to earlier in the day. If he'd already spoken to the two guests whom you'd planned to identify as, or even if he'd spoken to Gerard about you and Lucifer's visit, you were screwed.

You scrunched up your face into the least awkward smile you could muster, nodding slightly in recognition as the two of you approached the boy. He merely flattened his lips into a line and asked, "Names, please."

You told him the names you'd memorized. Your heart hammered as he flipped through the pages, slowly scanning over each letter. _Just look at the third page, you asshole_ , you wanted to voice angrily.

Finally, _finally_ he stopped scanning, looked up at each of you slowly, and nodded once. You walked past him and down the hall swiftly, not letting out a relieved breath until you were actually in the ballroom. That breath quickly morphed into a gasp when the scenery before you met your eyes.

For the first time you realized just how void of detail your visions were now that you were actually in one. Contrary to your vision, the ceiling was not a mixmatch of splotchy colors, but a spectacular mural of the biblical story of Noah's ark. The lights had seemed so yellow because they were chandeliers -- actual chandeliers -- adorned with dozens upon dozens of flaming candles. The whitish-yellow marbel walls and floor glinted endlessly along with the polished oak wood tables lined near said walls. Upon each table was something in a glass case that was too far away to make out. A graciously-wide curtained stage sat at one end of the room while a quintet sat at the other, playing some romantic-era song you'd never heard. Hundreds of people, most of whom were couples, shuffled about, stopping to stare at whatever was on the tables or to take a drink from one of the many wandering, platter-holding butlers. A few couples near the orchestra were even dancing.

The man next to you sighed, "I was expecting better."

"Better?" you rolled your eyes, "Luci, it doesn't get much better than this."

"You're right." He smiled slyly, "I expected the _best_." 

Once people began to "accidentally" bump into you and give you and your date dirty looks, you steered the both of you out of the doorway and toward the first table on the east wall.

You nearly burst into laughter as you read the plaque next to the ancient carved rock. The rock itself shone a crudely carved drawing of a man cowering from a horrible, giant beast with three heads and pitchforks for hands. The plaque read, "The Devil Corrupts an Innocent Man - c. 46 A.D."

"I hate everything."

You couldn't contain your giggling at Lucifer's words. A woman who'd been eyeing the piece glared daggers at you and hurried her date in the opposite direction. 

Once your giggling fit was over, you hit him playfully on the arm and grinned, "I'm having a _great_ time, dear."

 "Sure you are, _dear_. No one's putting unflattering images of you on display." He grumbled, crossing his arms and grimacing at the glass case.

You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, smiling. He pursed his lips, still staring unhappily at the rock. You pulled him by the arm and brought him over to the next table. More people surrounded this one, which was nothing but a vase with tons of odd symbols and patterns painted around its circumference. You suspected it had some sort of value to the people attending, but to you it was meaningless. You pulled Lucifer along to the next table and the next, somewhat unimpressed with the rest of the objects you saw.

"Unless one of these is a meteorite smothered in angel grace, I am not interested in all this junk." He growled, glancing at each exhibit you passed.

You took a breath, realizing that you'd forgotten completely about your purpose there, at the gala. As you often had in your days as a hunter, you'd gotten too caught up in the fun for a moment to think about the task at hand. During most hunts those moments, however few, always meant something. 

You scanned the walls and pulled Lucifer along to the least-populated doorway which happened to be the entrance to a creepy hallway with one door at its end.

"Those sigils outside, what do they mean?" You asked as soon as you stopped near the end of the hall.

His head tilted curiously to one side as he spoke, "They're supposed to keep angels out -- or drain their powers, at least."

You furrowed your brow, "Why would Gerard want to keep Angels out? If he knows you're without your grace, why not try to keep everyone out? Why throw a gala in the first place?"

He stared at you as he thought, causing you to feel antsy even though you knew his mind was on other things, "I assumed he wanted me to find my grace and absorb it for reasons of his own. If he's a witch he would try to harness my power or perform a spell as I absorbed it, but if he knew _which_ angel I am he would not try anything of the sort. What do you think?"

You hesitated, unprepared for his question, "Uh, I don't know, maybe he is a witch. Or maybe he's something else. Could he be an angel himself? I'd imagine there are many things you can do with another angel's grace. Especially _Lucifer's_ grace. Your power is, like, a celestial gold mine."

He smiled egotistically at the compliment, "Why thank you, (y/n), I agree wholeheartedly. I'm glad I brought you on a date to this gala."

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it, then smirked. You scoffed, "Please. If anything _I_ brought _you_. Hell, I even paid for your outfit. You owe me for that by the way. I'm not made of cash."

"You're adorable when you try to boss me around, (y/n)." He patted you on the head.

You squinted in a challenging manner, "Let's go look for your Goddamned grace. Whoops, sorry; touchy subject."

He outright glared at you. You pushed down that ounce of what, fear?, and held your chin up defiantly. You expected for him to make a snarky response, but when he left your words lingering in the air you almost wanted to take them back. And that was exactly what he wanted, wasn't it? Damn.

Finally it became too much to bear. You broke from his gaze and crossed your arms, "Fine, I'm sorry. Happy, you big baby?"

"Ecstatic." He pulled you in for a quick, but somehow lasting, kiss before dragging you back to the ballroom. Fuck, he was good.

 

 

 

At around 8:20 PM, after most of the guests had arrived, you realized that you should probably be watching out for the people who you were posing as. No sooner than you'd come to said realization, you spotted the man who'd formerly been standing at the front door now talking to one of the waiters and pointing in yours and Lucifer's direction.  

"Shit, they're catching on to us. What do we do?" You rushed to ask him and a whisper-yell.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at you and finished his third glass of champagne, a drink he'd decided was absolutely amazing, "They're 'catching on to us'? Do people actually say that?"

"Lucifer! This is serious."

One of the butlers began to move toward you, clearly bee lining his way through the crowd. An elderly couple stood behind the man with the guest list -- you assumed that they were, in fact, the couple you were pretending to be.

Lucifer followed your gaze and quickly assessed the situation, then glanced across the room, grabbed your hand, and pulled you to the northernmost side. He passed off his empty glass to a butler, then stopped at the edge of the crowd who stood watching tens of people dancing to the orchestral music. 

Without hesitation, he led you to the very center of the group of dancing couples and made enough room to begin leading you in a sway that was less of a dance and more of a leaning-on-each-other-and-moving-in-step-with-the-music type thing.

He had one hand placed on your lower back and the other awkwardly at your shoulder blade. You wrapped both arms around his midsection, blatantly unsure of what to do, and leaned your head onto him. The man that'd been chasing after you stopped, unwilling to break up the group of dancers in order to reach you and Lucifer in the middle of the crowd. You used your peripheral vision to watch as he stood in place for a long few seconds, glanced from the doorway to you and back, and then stomped defeatedly back into the adjacent crowd. 

You let out a relieved breath and re-evaluated your current situation, "Er, your vessel, does he know how to dance?"

There was a minimal pause, then a reply from your partner, "Unfortunately, no. He hasn't danced since his wedding and God knows how many years ago that was."

Suddenly you felt selfish for not having even asked about Lucifer's vessel. It was an essential part of him, after all, "I've never asked...what's his name?"

"My vessel?" He sounded unenthusiastic, "Nick."

You pictured Lucifer's face with the name Nick. Somehow it did sort of fit him, "Well, Nick's got a pretty face."

He giggled, "Of course. Anyone who's worthy of containing _my_ grace has got to be gorgeous."

You chuckled and squeezed him for a moment, slowing your sways as the music lost its vigor. Thankfully, the couples around you seemed to be moving into a similar position of holding each other and moving along slowly. It occurred to you that now would be a good time to sneak away, which you promptly told Lucifer.

"And go where?" he asked to what you assumed was both you and himself, "We've already checked every exhibit in the room and every adjoining hallway. We're going to have to go to a different floor if we want to find my grace. Plus--"

Before he could finish speaking, an enormous, thunderous crack echoed through the ballroom. You pulled away from his grasp and followed peoples' stares to the large and newly formed crack on the wall closest to the front door.

You furrowed your brow, "What the--?"

Next thing you knew, Lucifer was pulling you by the hand through the scared, yet mesmerized crowd. He pushed people away without remorse and you followed effortlessly, somewhat eager to know what was going on.

He stopped in front of one of the hallways on the east wall and peeked around the corner, moving forward only when he was sure it was empty. He led you all the way down it and stopped at the upward-leading staircase. 

"What's going on?" You managed to ask as he pushed aside the rope that'd been blocking the second floor from guests.

He answered as he pulled you along up the stairs, "Someone was breaking the sigils outside. An angel wants in."

You swallowed, probably more scared than you should have been at the prospect of an ethereal being breaking in, "You think they're after your grace?"

"That or me."

You pushed down your fear at that thought, too angry to be scared. Who would dare to take your angel away from you? How could they?

Another thunderous crack sounded from outside, but this time it was actual thunder. You looked out a window as you passed, noting the now relentless downpour of rain and occasional flash of lightning. The storm's timing was too ominous to be coincidence.

At least two pairs of feet sounded from the other end of the hall at a running pace. No doubt they were more of Gerard's staff, rushing downstairs to stifle the panic. The only escape routes were doors that were too far to reach in time. 

Lucifer noticed every detail that you had and, unoriginally, threw you against the wall and began to make out with you as a distraction. The people stopped and said something as they reached you, but you were too engrossed in the sensation of a caressing tongue in your mouth and forceful hands in your hair to bother to hear what they'd said. Less than a few seconds later they were off again. 

Your ex-archangel smiled as you groaned in annoyance when he pulled away from your body. He held his hand out for you to take, which you did, then you hurried with him along the corridors.

"Why does that always work?" You wondered, a small grin still stuck to your face.

"There's something about public intimacy that people just don't want to acknowledge. It makes them too uncomfortable to intervene. It's a weakness, really."

You were ready to voice your agreement when Lucifer suddenly stopped. He surveyed the area quickly, then looked up.

His eyes were stuck to the ceiling, "That's it."

"That's what?" your heartbeat sped up with a mix of emotions, "Your grace?"

His brow furrowed, "Wait...it can't be..."

A _CRACK_ sounded once more, only dulled. This time around, it was not the thunder. The orchestral music, which you'd been hearing faintly up to this point, stopped suddenly. You heard the muffled sound of a voice booming over the speakers. Someone was on stage, giving a speech. It was happening. You were living one of your own visions.

You glanced at Lucifer, who shared the same "yes I understand the situation we need to do something" look. The two of you ran up another set of stairs to the third floor, whose lighting was nonexistent. Neither of you stopped to switch on a lightswitch, though. You followed Lucifer as best as you could through the dark hallways, seeing only by means of the occasional lightning flash and hearing only the attack of water on the walls. The whole situation had goosebumps creeping onto your skin.

You nearly ran straight into him when he stopped abruptly in front of one of the doors. His hand sat on the knob for a long two seconds before he turned it. The door creaked open more slowly than what seemed a natural pace, accompanied by a roar of thunder that nearly caused you to jump. The both of you stepped inside at the same time. 

As soon as you were in the center of the room, the door slammed shut behind you.

Your hunter instinct kicked in before you could think properly. You grabbed the pistol from your bag, cocked it, and shot blindly at the door.

Despite the ringing in your ears, you could tell that no sound came from whoever stood there. You lifted your gun again, hoping not to miss a second time, only to have the pistol painfully ripped from your grip and your arms pinned forcefully behind your back.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the room for a brief second. You counted four bodies in front of you, one behind you, and one behind Lucifer.

Shit.

The fact that anyone had yet to say anything made you uneasy. The sense of calm in the room was almost neausiating to the point where you were so unsure of the situation as to try to wriggle free from your captor's iron tight grip -- obviously to no avail.

Someone flicked on the lights. You briefly made note of the fact that you were in a bedroom, a large one at that but a bedroom nonetheless, and you'd been right about your number of adversaries. It wasn't exactly encouraging that half of them had black eyes.

One of the men approached you with a sly smile, his dark suit and hair contrasting with a flicker of lightning, "Don't squirm, love, and you might just make it out of here alive. Or, at least, my version of alive."

He looked you up and down without a hint of modesty, shrugging at what he saw. You took notice of the fact that you had, in light of your doubts, shot the man at the door, but the bullethole in his shoulder was not bleeding. The man in front of you leaned in to your neck and took a long sniff. You moved the few inches away your position would allow, disgusted by his closeness.

He stepped back to look into your eyes and smile as he talked, "You smell nice for a conniving whore."

Cute. "I thought I smelled a reek of sulfur and bad decisions from downstairs. I should have guessed that demons were here."

He laughed, his accent thick when he spoke again, "I kind of like you, love. Too bad you won't last the night. Always have potential, the ones that--"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Lucifer piped up, looking so pissed it surprised you.

Every pair of eyes in the room was locked on him now that he'd spoken. Even the demon holding Lucifer's hands behind his back stole a glance at him. The short spance of silence from the others allowed for the rain to seem to pelt the windows at a more incredible pace. You could only imagine what they were thinking.

The demon that you were having a lovely conversation with, however, chose to ignore him completely. He approached you again and smiled, looking you up and down once more, "Name's Crowley, by the way. And my, now that I take a second look I've realized you're bloody gorgeous."

The name clicked in your head. You glanced quickly at Lucifer to catch him rolling his eyes. It occurred to you that Crowley's demons had no doubt told him about Lucifer _and_ you, and now that he'd drawn his own conclusions about your relationship he was trying to make Lucifer jealous. You smirked at the thought.

You cleared your throat, constructing a battle plan in your head. You knew exactly how you were going to fight your way out of that room if you had to, "So, we gonna sit around while you have mixed feelings about me all day, or...?"

"That does sound enticing." Crowley grinned, the grimaced and gestured at the ceiling with one hand, "However, we have a guest of honor to wait for. Fashionably late doesn't quite fit into my schedule, so he'd better hurry up if he knows what's good for him."

Lucifer scoffed, "Please. _You're_ going to threaten _him_? With what?"

"A _cage_." Crowley spat, glowering at Lucifer. Your angel glared menacingly. Crowley tried to hold his gaze, but ended up making a sort of snarling noise and pacing about the room.

About thirty seconds after he'd started pacing, Crowley snapped his head up at the sound of someone approaching in the hallway. The man at the door, who you assumed was an angel (due to a certain non-bleeding fresh bullet wound), and the two demons next to him tensed. The person outside yelled for Crowley to let him in, whom promptly ordered his minions to do. 

For some reason you expected to recognize the man who entered. You didn't. You tried to think of someone who could possibly scare demons _and_ angels besides Lucifer, but you were too afraid to think straight. He stalked past Crowley, gave you a quick once-over, and approached Lucifer confidently. You perked up, almost excited to hear their conversation.

"Long time no see, brother. How's life without wings?"

Lucifer huffed a laugh, "Terrible, as you have clearly found out for yourself. What did you do, take the slowest bus you could find to get here?"

He ignored the question altogether, "I see it hasn't taken long for you to make...friends."

 You frowned at the insinuation. Lucifer tilted to the side, "Surely you know who this is?"

His brother, who you knew by now was a graceless angel but you still did not know the name of, glanced at you once again and back at Lucifer, seemingly annoyed, "I do not have time for games. Who is she?"

"Do enlighten us." Crowley chimed in.

Before he could "enlighten" either of them, the sound of the fluttering of angel wings was heard. 

Finally, someone you knew.

"Balthazar!" You grinned, knowing full well that you would now, if you ever had any doubt, make it out of the situation alive.

Balthazar smiled widely at you, scanned over the rest of the room, lost his smile, and smiled again all in a second or two. You could tell he was horribly nervous, but he grinned about and gestured at everyone as if he was not, "Bonjour! Brothers, demons......(y/n). Sorry for arriving so early, I thought this would be over by now."

"Well now, all we need is some cake and this would be the perfect surprise party! I'll be opening gifts presently." Lucifer's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Another thundershock. The graceless angel next to Lucifer turned on his heel, an intense and steady eye stuck on Crowley, "How many angels did you tell about this, Crowley? Our deal was to inform only Raphael and--"

"Yes, yes I know the details of our agreement. As specifically stated, Raphael and his...her  _immediate affiliates_ have reserved, front row seats to our little showing. Now let's get this thing going, shall we?"

The angel knit his brows together in frustration, but said nothing else. Without answering he turned back to Lucifer and lifted his chin as he asked, "I have to ask, brother, what were you planning on doing once you stole my grace? You of all people know that there are very few vessels that can contain the grace of archangels. Yours would have imploded."

Lucifer avoided the archangel's eyes, "I was under the impression that the grace in this room was mine."

For whatever reason, a pang of guilt shot through you. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault that it hadn't been Lucifer's grace as Gerard's home all along, but it still felt like it was. A sudden realization dawned on you then that there were _two_ graceless archangels in the room and your vision had depicted only _one_ reclaiming his grace. You also realized that, due to process of elimination, the archangel in front of you was either Gabriel or Michael.

The archangel almost smiled, "Either way, it's a shame you couldn't get your true vessel back. It seems everyone wanted to reach into the Cage and take a piece of the Winchester."

You took a pause, taken aback by the name. You caught Balthazar's eye. He leaned in close enough that you could whisper to each other and you asked about the Winchester.

He shook his head and whispered back nonchalantly, "Just this annoying little hunter named Sam. Good hair though."

 _"Sam Winchester_?" You stated incredulously and apparently loudly.

The archangel had been in the middle of saying something. He stopped talking and gazed angrily at you. You felt the weight of each eye upon you again.

You looked straight at Lucifer, "Your true vessel is Sam Winchester?"

He looked appalled, "You know him?"

"Know him?" You scoffed, annoyed that you'd let such an obvious fact slip your field of knowledge, "I'm expecting a call from him."

"Remind me who this is?" The archangel asked.

"This is (y/n). She's a hunter." Balthazar introduced, gesturing from you to the archangel, "(y/n), Michael. Michael, (y/n)."

"Why is a hunter in here, Crowley?" Michael growled accusingly at the demon. A flash of lighting or two and a crack of thunder initiated.

"I'm also a prophet." You offered, knowing full well that you were probably saving Crowley's ass.

Michael raised a brow, "No you're not."

You glanced from Balthazar, who was practically sweating bullets, to Lucifer, who seemed just as confused as you, "Yeah, Michael, I am."

When Lucifer didn't deny your claims, Michael took a deep breath, "The current prophet's name is Chuck Shurley. I have the list in my head, just like every other angel in existence. Does the list not currently stand on the name Chuck Shurley?"

Balthazar nodded slowly, almost painfully so, at his words. The angel at the door, who you'd forgotten you'd tried to kill, nodded quickly when Michael laid eyes on him. 

Lucifer shook his head, "Brother, I know the list like I know the story of the Garden of Eden. Chuck Shurley's time has passed. (y/n)'s name is officially at spot number one."

Balthazar piped up then, grinning and stepping between you and the ex-archangels, "Does this really matter? Clearly we've got more relevant issues at hand."

"It matters." Lucifer's voice hit your ears. You raised a brow, curious as to how your name, or lack thereof, on the angels' "mental lists" could be so important. 

You guessed that either one or two sets of eyes had glared accusingly at Balthazar then, because he quickly flipped around to face you. His smile was strained and his eyes were pleading. It scared you to see him so terrified.

His arms extended toward you, palms open in a welcoming manner. His voice held the tone you'd figured would accompany his distraught eyes, "(y/n)...do you remember the night we first met?"

You nodded slowly, all the more panicked at his question. You pictured a similarly rainy night in your thoughts, "Yes, of course. I...I'd had a vision for the first time. It was of a bunch of demons slaughtering a group of children. I was so scared that for the first time in a long time..." you looked around the room, momentarily distracted by the fact that you'd never been in a more dangerous situation, "...I prayed."

The angel before you reached forward and placed a hand on your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone. His eyes were glassy and almost discolored in the light. You had little idea as to whether he was more afraid for himself or you. You weren't sure which option you preferred.

"And I showed up in your bedroom and scared the bejesus out of you." You smiled at the thought. He went on, "It's about time I tell you the truth of the situation, hm?"

You went to ask, but he continued, "That vision you saw was not a prophecy as I told you. It was a prediction of the future."

"Aren't they the same thing?" You questioned, eyes searching his face for something other than an ounce of pain.

"No." Michael chimed in, "A prophecy is divine. As it is prophecized, it will be. According to those of us who aren't rogue, anyway." 

"And predictions of the future are subject to change." Lucifer said thoughtfully. You peeked around Balthazar to see his face, but his eyes were pointed fixatedly at the carpet.

"But my visions always come true." you bit your lip, suddenly unsure of yourself. The past five years of your life had revolved around those stupid visions; you could not accept that they'd all been in vain, "Don't they?"

Your heart dropped when he slowly shook his head side to side. Balthazar gave a short laugh that you barely recognized as bitter, "The night after you envisioned those children I went and found them, and, as you know, I wasn't strong enough to hold off a sufficient amount of the demons to keep them from being murdered. What did they say in the papers, some sort of freak animal attack?"

"Bears." You corrected. The media's version of the story had haunted you for weeks. The rage for demons that had bubbled inside you after that was always a force to be reckoned with. 

"Right. But see, the thing is..." He dropped his hand from your face and hesitated to say his next words, "Angels are able to detect any being, human or otherwise, with heavenly powers like Future Seeing. It should be immediately obvious to an angel when someone's having or has just had a vision. With you, I never sensed anything.

"For the longest time I thought it was some sort of mixup. I thought that Heaven was supposed to be sending magic pictures to a different special someone, but today, (y/n), I realized what it is."

The only sound in the room besides the blood rushing intensely through your ears was the steady onslaught of water on the windows. Balthazar glanced back at Lucifer then and your heart thumped horrifyingly against your chest. What could your visions possibly have to do with your angel? 

Had mere seconds passed? It seemed like hours ago he'd left his statement hanging in the air. When Lucifer _finally_ caught your gaze you had to speak up, "What? What is it?"

Balthazar took a deep breath, "One week ago, when Lucifer escaped from the cage via means of one of the most powerful witches in existence, his grace was ripped from him. That grace was sent back in time to a period when a demon was creating and recruiting as many psychics as possible -- a spance in which yet another visionary becoming active would be the most likely to go unnoticed--"

"Five years ago." Lucifer interrupted.

The lump in your throat prevented you from speaking. Balthazar nodded once, not turning his eyes away from your face, "Five years ago. That grace was sent to the only vessel capable of holding it in secrecy at the time. That vessel was you, (y/n)."

You wanted to ask a million things. You swallowed past the lump and settled for the first question that popped into your brain, "Wait, so Lucifer's grace has been inside me for _five years_?"

"That's impossible." Lucifer said, scoffing at the notion, "I'm fairly positive I would've noticed my grace missing from my vessel."

"That's the thing," Balthazar paused as a resounding bout of thunder erupted outside, "(y/n), you're from an alternate reality. The witch sent that grace not only back in time, but to a different timeline--"

Michael finished his sentence, "and when the witch opened the cage last week, you were sent to our timeline -- otherwise known as reality."

Your head hurt trying to connect the dots that they were fitting together so easily. You said more to yourself than to anyone else, "So...one week ago, a witch opened the Cage, stole Lucifer's grace, sent it back in time to an alternate reality, to me, and I've been living in an alternate reality with an angel's grace inside me for years up until last week." You tried not to look at Balthazar like he was crazy, "But then how did you visit me all those times over the years? And how didn't you notice his grace?"

" _That_ is where I'm not so sure." He placed a hand on his chin and stared at the windows perplexedly, "My theory is that the witch's spell wasn't quite as strong as they'd hoped it to be; the lines between this reality and that one were blurred so that when you prayed to me I was going back and forth between two different realities without realizing it." He spun back to face you, seemingly more calm than before, "And as for the grace, it acted as a Protection Charm. It shielded you from anyone noticing its presence and it acted up as a warning whenever a large surge of inhuman power was going to take place nearby." 

"That would explain the 'prophecies.'" Michael stated, staring at you.

"...is this really happening?" All eyes turned to Crowley, who had his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped, and his eyebrows raised, "You're all believing this _rubbish_?"

Michael was about to say something, but the demon shook his head and raised a hand, cutting him off, "You know what? I don't care. We're here for a reason. Let's forget about bloody story time for a minute and open a door, shall we?"

When no one protested, Michael left his brother's side and stalked into the darkest corner of the room. When your eyes adjusted, you noticed that he had walked into some sort of closet. He came back out holding one of those biohazard briefcases with the huge yellow symbol on the front.

"Good. Now you, me, French Toast, and Holey over here are going to go downstairs and make sure there are no survivors." Crowley growled, nodding once at Balthazar and once at the angel standing guard near the door.

Balthazar gave you a pained look. Your insides clenched uncomfortably at the thought of him getting so wrapped up in his knack for corruption that he defected to the wrong team. He followed a chin-held-high Michael and the other angel out the door. 

Crowley stopped in the doorway and turned his eyes straight on you, smirking, "Oh and (y/n), love, when I get back you and I are going find ourselves a lovely little torture chamber and have some fun."

You spat in his direction. He winked and followed after the angels down the hall, slamming the door shut behind him.

Not a second later, the demon who'd been clenching your wrists let you go. Unprepared for the event, you hesitated for a half second, dropped to the floor to grab the pistol that'd been knocked from your person, and aimed it at the closest of the four demons in the room.

Only to have Lucifer ask for you to not shoot. 

It took you a moment to realize that the demon formerly cuffing your angel had freed him. Lucifer held his hand out for you to take, his tux re-situated and his smile knowing.

You kept the gun in your hand, but allowed it to drop to your side as he helped you up. The moment your feet were steady he pulled you into a tight embrace and kissed you passionately. You melted into it without thought, clenching a hand in his hair and resting the gun against his back.

He pulled away all too quickly with a small bite on your lower lip, but kept his arm on your lower back. He then faced the demons, who all had their heads bowed, and spoke in a commanding voice that sent shivers down your spine, "One of you grab our car, the black Mustang. Two of you need to stall downstairs. And you," he stared down at the last demon in the line, "get us as much cash as possible within the next two minutes. Go."

Two of them nodded and sprinted out the door. The other two ditched their vessels and flew off in a flurry of black smoke. 

You recollected yourself, "How did you know they were on our side?"

"The one holding me back was barely doing so and the one at the door looked ready to stab the angel at my command." He shrugged, then grinned and gestured at the door with his free hand, "I do love how you say 'our side.' We should probably leave before Michael destroys the place."

You agreed and followed him out the door. The two of you ran the opposite way you'd come, not slowing until you found a staircase that led to an exit. Not soon enough, you got outside just as hundreds of crashes sounded and an intense white light that rivaled the lightning outside eminated from every opening in the house. Lucifer was covering your eyes with his hand and moving you along before you could understand what was happening. 

When he allowed you to open your eyes, you were greeted with sight of your Mustang sitting in a pool of broken glass. You pushed the rain-drenched hair from your face to glance up at the house. As you'd suspected, every window had been shattered, half of the visible doors blown off their hinges, and cracks disturbed the now very obvious sigils adorning the walls.

 "Hurry, love." Lucifer said next to your ear, barely audible over the pouring rain. He ushered you into the passenger side of the car and then hurried to the driver's seat where he promptly kicked the Mustang into drive and sped down the road in the already started car.

The now muted thunder and rain was more fear-inducing than a calming distraction. Lucifer flicked the windshield wipers up to full speed where they still had trouble wiping enough water off the glass to keep it visible. The cloud-covered sky shadowed everything in sight.

You shivered in your seat, glancing down at your completely ruined dress and mentally cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket. It occurred to you then that you might have thrown one in the back seat. When you turned to look, you were greeted with the sight of tens of thousands of dollars piled there.

The short gasp you gave caused Lucifer to glance back himself. He smirked for a second before squinting again at the barely-visible road.

For the most part you were silent, still a little rattled by the entire evening. You suspected Lucifer was being quiet because you were yet to be out of foreseeable danger, which was an idea he was not fond of. You spoke up when you realized where you were, "Where are we going?"

"Back to the hotel to grab our things," he answered, confirming your suspicions, "then we're taking a drive to the other side of the country."

You understood and agreed with his choices. Part of you wanted to ask about his grace, but you decided it was best to wait for a later time. So you rode quietly, ready to, yet again, flee with Lucifer to a place you'd never been in order to hide from angels, demons, hunters, and, Hell, the rest of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment or leave a kudos if you enjoyed this chapter! <3


	9. The Sunflower State

"There's a feelin' I get when I look to the west, and my spirit is crying for leaving. In my thoughts I have seen the rings of smoke through the trees, and the voices of those who stand looking."

You wondered how you would react if you went back in time a few years and told your past self that in the future you'd be waking up, in the passenger seat of your own car, to the sound of the Devil himself singing Stairway to Heaven. The more thought you put into it, the more you came to realize that your past self would label your future self as absolutely insane. You smiled at the thought of the imaginary scenario.

"Cute smile, Sunshine. Enjoying my solo?" Lucifer commented, the upturn in his voice suggesting a grin on his face.

Led Zeppelin continued to play as background noise when you peeked your eyes open, immediately greeted by the glaring early morning sun in your line of vision. Once you recognized that you were cuddling with a blanket you lifted it over your head and muttered, "Keep singing."

He did as you'd asked, only in a sillier tone. The rest of the song consisted of him unnecessarily grunting certain lyrics and making noises along with the guitar. All the same, when the eight minutes were up you clapped and thanked him for a lovely performance.

As soon as the sun retreated behind a mass of trees, you stared out from under your covers to watch him pout and say, " _Only_ lovely? I thought it was perfect."

"Did I say lovely? Silly me, you're exactly right. What I meant was perfect."

He winked at you. You chuckled and lifted the blanket off of yourself, only to notice that you were wearing nothing but your underwear.

"Lucifer."

"Hm?"

"Why am I half naked?"

He glanced over at your side of the car, eyes lingering for a moment before shrugging, "What was I supposed to do, leave you in that drenched thing and let you catch a cold? I don't know how to take care of a sick human."

You vaguely took note of the lack of a tuxedo on his body. Unlike what he'd done with you he had actually put on the casual attire of jeans, a t-shirt, and an unbuttoned button-down. 

"You could've, you know, woken me up and asked me to do it myself." You informed with an annoyed stare.

"Oh, believe me, I tried." He gestured irritably at the ceiling, "You helped as much as a dead cat, (y/n)."

You stared out the window, sneering at road signs, "Wonderful. Now I'm a dead cat."

"A dead cat who looks great in her underwear."

Your glare was met by a childishly innocent smile. He bit his lip and batted his eyelashes, turning his gaze back to the road only when you told him that you did not intend to die in a car crash by his doing. He laughed adorably at that, after which you promptly growled, "I can't decide if I want to kiss you or punch you in the balls."

"Like it rough, eh? I could get into that. Want to pull over and try a thing or two?"

You muttered a few unkind words under your breath and then unbuckled your seat belt and clambered into the back seat. After a few seconds of searching it became apparent that the only luggage not in the trunk was your emergency "Hunter Bag" and a suitcase containing most of Lucifer's things; and of course the piles of seemingly countless American dollars that were now spread around the entirety of the car.

"Where are we?" you asked as you dug through Lucifer's suitcase.

"Kansas."

"And where are we headed?" you asked, grabbing a green and blue plaid shirt and struggling to move your arms around in the limited back seat space.

".....Kansas."

Once you had the shirt on (whose sleeves were long enough to completely cover your hands) you wrapped it around your torso and jumped back over to the passenger seat. You clicked your seat belt back into place and situated yourself a bit more comfortably before questioning him, "Okay...what's so special about Kansas?"

"This and that." He muttered.

You raised a brow, "The absence of truth--"

"Is still a lie. Yes, yes, I know." He sighed, "Kansas is where Michael and I are, were?, meant to have our 'Final Battle.' Kansas was -- _will be_ the birthplace of the apocalypse."

"Oh." You let that sink in for a moment, "The end of the world."

" _Not_ the end of the world." He corrected you quickly, sending an irrationally bitter glance your way, "The end of _humanity_. Earth is beautiful. People? Not so much."

You bit your lip, contemplating saying your next words out loud before actually doing so, "You know I'm included in the definition of humanity, right?"

You assumed he was looking at you but you pretended to be more interested in the scenery than where his eyes were when he finally answered you, "(y/n). I'm not going to kill you."

You had to hold yourself back from letting our a relieved exhale. It wasn't until you understood that he had pulled off the highway just to pull over on a dirt road that you turned to look at him. His gaze was already locked on you and both his hands were on your face before you knew it.

His voice just a notch above the hum of the engine, he murmured, "I'm not going to kill you."

This time you did let out a small sigh of relief and were surprised to feel its shakiness. The feelings he'd sent you had always been mixed, but at that moment you were more sure than ever that he was serious about keeping you around. And Hell, clearly you were serious about staying.

As soon as your miniature epiphany occurred, you leaned in for a kiss. He kissed right back, keeping it sweet and pure as you'd intended. He still tasted like that bit of champagne he'd consumed the night before. When you pulled away you kept your forehead leaning onto his and lifted your right hand to intertwine it with his left. 

You spoke quietly, "So...no road trip across the country then?"

"No road trip across the country." He confirmed, smiling genuinely, "Just you, me, my grace, and the good ol' Sunflower State."

At the mention of his grace you leaned away to look down at yourself as if you'd see a hint of it, "We should talk about that. And Michael. Shit, why are we staying in Kansas? He's just going to find us again."

Lucifer took your left hand in both of his and brought it to his face, kissing the sensitive center of your palm and then resting it on his cheek. He looked at you with those big puppy dog eyes. The way he'd been touching you and looking at you since the night before, it was almost as if he was afraid to break you; like you were made of glass. Part of you absolutely hated it, but the other part of you was softening with every gaze and melting with every touch -- and you were almost completely certain that he knew it. 

"You heard what Balthazar said, (y/n). My grace is a Protective Charm. As long it's inside you, or me, Michael won't find us. Unless we want him to, obviously, but let's not talk about strategy just yet." He turned his head slightly to kiss your palm again, this time with a blank, absentminded expression.

"And how the Hell do we get your grace out of my body?" You bit you lip, holding back a grin, "That came out a little dirtier than intended."

He rolled his eyes, "That's 'dirty'? If you want to hear 'dirty' how about we talk less about taking something of mine _out_ of you and more about putting something of mine _in_ to you."

You smirked, momentarily unable to rebuttal. Before you could he sent a quick glance to the back seat and raised a brow at you. You widened your eyes a small portion and nearly gaped, "We are _not_ having sex in the back seat of my car."

"Somewhere else then? A motel?" He smiled toothily when you made a face, "We already share a bed, people are going to assume a thing or two. You talk a _lot_ in your sleep, by the way."

You sneered and pulled your hand from his face, opening the door and stepping out of the car before he could comment on your actions. You wrapped his shirt tighter around yourself as the wind gusted intensely.

After glancing up and down the road a few times to be sure of its desolateness, you jogged to the back of the Mustang and clicked open the trunk. Lucifer was there, next to you, wrapping his arm around your side within seconds. Normally the affection wouldn't have bothered you, but considering his probable reasoning behind it you shrugged him off. You waited for a comment but none came, so you rifled through your duffle bag and grabbed a few items of clothing.

You shot an eye over your shoulder to be sure he wasn't watching you only to see him doing exactly that. You turned fully around and raised a judging brow, but he stood defiantly with his arms crossed and his stare emotionless. You tensed your jaw unhappily.

A few more seconds of staring later and you had accepted his nonverbal challenge. Slowly, oh so slowly, you bent down and stuck each foot into each leg of your pants, intent on not breaking the stare. He did good on not looking away from your eyes as you lifted the material past one calf, another, not bothering any longer to cover up your torso with his shirt. When you took your sweet time pulling the pants up past your knees and the lowest section of your thigh, he slipped up with a small twitch of his left eye. 

You smirked victoriously, continuing the excruciating trek up your thighs. His annoyance shone more and more with the squinting of his eyes and the unevenness of his breaths. But, impressively, he held the stare. Still determined to win by not looking away, you pulled the jeans up your upper thigh so slowly that you may as well have stopped moving altogether.

His thoughts must have been along the same lines, because he finally lost it with a curse under his breath (in what, Enochian?). He covered the few feet between you in one stride and forcefully used his body to push you back against the edge of your car. Your breath caught. Almost predictably, he grabbed the belt loops on the sides of your pants and yanked them up past your thighs and over your butt. Still he didn't break the stare, but now his eyes were filled with lust. You flicked your stare quickly to his lips, lifting your chin and parting your own lips expectantly.

Instead of kissing you, though, he gripped your jaw just tightly enough to not be gentle and moved his head slowly from side to side. Your breaths picked up when he leaned his hips into yours, with just enough force to make you excited, then pulled back away to continue a survey of your irises.

Now that he was being the tease it fucking _irked_ you. 

You grabbed greedily at his chest with your hand, clenching a fistful of fabric and urging him forward, but he let go of your jaw and smacked your wrist. You pulled it back to yourself and opened your mouth to express your pain, but he made a 'tsk' noise and shook his head, which was somehow just enough to keep you from speaking up about it. He pressed into you again and held himself there, making you wish there weren't layers of jeans and cotton in the way. His warm breath caressed your cheek.

"Luci..." you whined as your accumulating wetness created a pool between your legs.

To your great surprise, he lost himself at that and threw a passionate kiss onto your lips. He pulled apart from you just long enough to murmur something, his voice low and husky, "I love it when you call me that."

At that point there was really no denying the situation: you were dry humping an ex-angel, an ex- _archangel_ , against the trunk of your car. The thought made you feel greedy; even a bit special. How many humans in all of existence had had your opportunity? Not many, you suspected, if any at all. 

You couldn't help yourself, "How many of your brothers have been in this situation?"

He paused at your jaw, his breathing paused for a short moment. When it resumed he leaned back to study the parts of your body that went shielded by his, "None, I hope."

"No, not this _exact_ situation." You rolled your eyes, "I mean like, in a relationship with a human. Or even a non-angel. How many?"

"None." He said firmly before pulling away from you and seemingly taking a minute to think, "Actually, now that you mention it, there have been a few Nephilim over the years. And then there's Gabriel; he's never been one to deny pleasure. Plus probably every other fallen angel who's ever tumbled out of Heaven. Then again, I'm not sure any of these cases involve actual romance. Dates and consensual sex don't always go hand in hand, do they?"

"Consensual sex?" You repeated, slightly amused, "Do angels have to have consent to have sex?"

"Not necessarily. Technically angels aren't meant to have sex in any way, shape, or form, but believe it or not," he said his next words in a sing-song voice, "some of us like to break the rules."

You smiled at his acknowledgement before continuing, "So, what, it's frowned upon for a celestial being to rape?"

He shrugged, "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"No, not at all. Heaven's rules just seem a little...obtrusive."

He absentmindedly brushed something off your arm and spoke a small "mmm-hm" of agreement. You wondered what he was thinking but didn't ask. Instead you turned over the shirt in your hand and inquired about your location, "Which town are we in?"

"I'm not sure, but we're going to Topeka. It should only be an hour or so away now. Why do you ask?"

At the mention of Topeka you lit up, "Perfect! That means that when we get there I've got somewhere for us to stay."

He lifted a brow in amusement, "Oh? And where might that be?"

"Joseph lives in Topeka."

Lucifer squinted, "Your brother?"

"My brother." You gestured at the countryside, "If I'd known we'd be staying in Kansas I would've told you earlier."

After a few seconds he nodded, "Alright. What are we going to tell him about me, then?"

You gave a questioning stare before understanding what he meant, "Oh, no, don't worry about that. Joseph knows about angels and demons and....everything. The biggest problem we'll be having is that I haven't talked to him in over a year."

"Alright." He nodded again. He leaned in, you kissed, and he then placed a hand on your cheek, smiling, "Now all we need to do is get my grace out of your _captivating_ vessel."

You grinned in return and placed a hand on your stomach, "I don't know, I kind of like it. It's nice knowing that you're always with me, even when you're not."

He placed a kiss on your forehead, "You don't need my grace for that, love."

The nicety made your insides flutter. You kissed him once more, then led him away from the trunk and shut it with a _click_. You asked him for the keys, which he dug out of one of his front pockets and handed to you. You thanked him and you each headed to your respective sides of the car. 

Once your own shirt was on and Lucifer was "comfortable enough to take a nap," you drove back to the highway and followed the directions on the road signs to get to Topeka, Kansas. 

 

 

 

"3718. We're here!" You exclaimed.

Lucifer didn't budge from his listless slumber. Instead he dreamt on, his chest rising slowly and steadily.

 _He looks like an angel._ You heard yourself think.

You cracked a grin at your own stupidity and muttered, "He  _is_ an angel, you idiot."

You lightly ran your fingers through a section of his hair that'd been disheveled after he'd spent half of his sleepy time leaning against his window. Even though the drive out of Colorado hadn't been the longest he'd ever gone without resting he seemed exhausted -- at least on account of the fact that he was usually awoken by the slightest noise.

The poor excuse for a house outside Lucifer's window stared back at you. Its light blue walls were chipping to reveal a slightly green-tinted wood; the railing on the porch swayed just a touch with the movement of the wind. Its only saving grace was, perhaps, the second floor. You wondered for a moment how structurally sound it was and about how many more years the second floor would hold.

It occurred to you that your brother would have, no doubt, preferred for you to call ahead with plans to abide at his place of residence, but you knew him well enough to know that he would not turn his sister to the street in a time of need. You glanced down at your hand, which had found its way to smooth skin. Your thumb caressed Lucifer's lower lip as you thought.

Presented to you were two options: Wake up your angel, introduce his groggy self to your brother, and then plead for the latter to take both of you in; or, corner your brother with the situation yourself, persuade him to let you stay, and then introduce your freshly-awoken angel. It didn't take long for you to decide on the second option.

Possibly being more quiet than necessary, you turned the keys and pulled them from the ignition before jutting stealthily out of your car. You sauntered from the sidewalk, to the porch (with that familiar squeaky third step), to the front door. You took a breath. Three times you knocked, then paused, then knocked once more, something you and your brother had always done as children that neither of you had, hopefully, ever forgotten.

A moment of silence, and then the muted thudding of approaching feet. The sounds rose in tempo in what you hoped was excitement.

Next thing you knew, the door was wide open and you were sharing an embrace with your brother. His smile was wide and his eyes shone delightedly. You'd almost forgotten just how much he looked like you -- it was like staring into a mirror.

"(y/n)! How long has it been? A year? Two?"

"One year and three months." You answered, recalling the events of the last day you'd been in each other's company. It was hard to believe that you hadn't seen any of your family in person since the Fourth of July before last, "For a second there I thought you'd forgotten about the knock."

He rolled his eyes, "Me, forgetting something? You are aware how photographic memory works, right?" Joseph stepped aside, gesturing for you to step past the threshold.

You did just that, stopping as soon as you entered to take in the warm colors of the furniture and the strong smell of something sweet, "Are you cooking something?"

"Cinnamon rolls." He answered, shutting the door behind you and stepping around you in the small entryway, mussing up your hair as he passed, "So are we gonna talk about why you're here or are we just gonna pretend you being days away from home is normal?"

You followed hastily to the kitchen. Save for a miscellaneous object here and there, everything was in the same place as it'd been on the Fourth. Even the fridge seemed similarly stocked. You took a quick peek into the dining room, noted its sameness, and then glanced into the living room. Unlike its small, generic predecessor, in front of the love seat now housed a fifty-something inch flatscreen. It had the awkward appearance of suit and tie at a beach party, but it was impressive nonetheless.

You whistled, "Good job, brother. That was a needed renovation. Now it's time to save up for a new house."

"Hey. This house is just fine. You know how long it took me to save up for this?" He gestured at the walls.

"No. Didn't you borrow money from me for the down payment?"

"I paid you back." He said matter-of-factly. He opened the oven, squinted inside, shut it, then walked over to the dining room and slouched on one of the chairs at the table.

You followed suit, nodding at the oven as you sat, "Is this what you do nowadays? Lounge around, making cinnamon rolls at one in the afternoon on weekdays?"

"I am on vacation, technically. Is that what you're doing?" He inclined his head and gave you an accusing stare, "Or are you on a hunt?"

"No." You snapped defensively before adding, "Well, sort of. Not really. Maybe."

"You sound sure." He muttered, sarcasm strong in his tone. He sat up straighter and spoke more pointedly with his next words, "You're not in any danger, are you? Please tell me some demon-vampire-monster-thing isn't about to crash through my wall."

"No, Joseph, no demon-vampire-monster-thing is going to eat you in your sleep." You chuckled, paused, then sobered yourself and took a breath, "I am in a little tiny bit of danger, though."

Panic immediately widened his eyes and squared his shoulders, "Why are you here? You have an arsenal at your house. I've seen it."

"If I go back to my house right now, I'll most likely be captured, tortured, and brutally murdered." You segued, not quite realizing how much danger you were truly in until those words left your mouth, "So...I need a place to stay."

"What's happening? What did you do? Is this because of those stupid visions?" He threw an onslaught of questions at you as he often did when scared.

You tactfully only half-answered the last, "Hopefully when this is all over I won't have those visions anymore. But I need your word that I can stay here for as long as I need to."

"My vacation is only--"

"Your  _word_ , Joseph."

" _Fine_ , yes, go ahead, (y/n), you can live here for a few days at the most. Happy?"

"Very." You smiled, standing from the chair and beginning your trek back to the Mustang.

"Wait!" He stood, stopping you with the noise of the chair scraping across the tile. He tilted his head, "How are you going to get the visions to stop?"

"I'm getting help." You stated nonchalantly, mentally patting yourself on the back for providing so many well-timed half-truths.

"From who?"

You smiled and said, "An angel."

You hurried to open the front door and rush to the curb before Joseph could stop you. As you predicted he would, he stopped on the porch and watched as you opened the passenger door to your car.

"Luci." You bent over just enough to comfortably lean one forearm on top of the car's frame and the other against Lucifer's seat. He'd slumped himself over the armrest and laid with his head buried in the crook of his elbow.

"Wake up, love." You commanded, your voice a bit sing-songy, "We've got to convince my brother to let us steal his spare room for as long as we need."

He didn't budge. Losing your patience, you poked at his ribs. He was silent for a few more moments, but almost out of nowhere he giggled and sat up hastily, pushing your arm away and clearing his throat in order to reestablish his stoic nature.

You could feel the fire in your eyes, "Look who's ticklish."

"Shut up." He growled, rubbing his eyelids sleepily.

"Someone's waiting to meet you." You told him, stepping aside so that he could see your brother leaning against the unsteady railing on the porch. Joseph waved awkwardly.

Lucifer squinted at him, "He looks more like you than I remember."

"Identical twins do tend to share similar characteristics." You stated, holding out a hand.

He took it and you helped him out of the car. He shielded his eyes from the sunlight with one hand, still holding yours in the other. You led him to the trunk and then to the back seat where, between the two of you, you were just able to carry all of your luggage. You hauled your load up to the porch and past Joseph, leading Lucifer inside. You expected to hear some sort of greeting between them, but none sounded.

You lugged everything to the back of the house, up the stairs, and down to the middle door on the left side of the hall. Two sets of feet followed. You somehow managed to open the door with your left hand. You threw the bags onto the bed before stepping back to actually survey the room.

You'd only stayed in the guest room once and seen it once before that. It was, as most other things in the house, exactly the same as your memory had pictured. The walls were still a dull green, the bed was still littered with mismatching quilts and small pillows, and the dresser was still dusty and sporting that one crooked drawer. The old, neglected computer sat on the desk in the corner, its chunky monitor shielded by a thick layer of soft gray dust. 

As Lucifer put the rest of your things on the floor, you walked over to the window to open the blinds. Just as you suspected, the window itself was still stuck shut.

"You could have renovated  _something_ , Joseph." You reported. Your brother didn't bother to reply. He was too busy staring at Lucifer, who was, in turn, too busy trying to stay awake.

You sighed and nodded from Joseph to Lucifer, "Joseph.....Angel. Angel, Joseph."

They both raised a brow at you. You smiled, pushing your way out of the room and back downstairs toward the kitchen. You were fairly certain that your brother had left his cinnamon rolls to burn in his haste to see your angel.

The smoke in the kitchen confirmed your suspicions. You hurried to grab an oven mitt and put the tray on the counter. "Open a window, will you?" You coughed, speaking to no one in particular. The smoke wasn't bad, obviously, since a fire alarm had yet to go off, but it was just not good enough to disrupt vision and leave the smell of charred cinnamon lingering in the air.

Joseph opened the nearest window and helped you wave the smoke out of it. Lucifer didn't help until you barked at him to.

When the air was finally clear, you made sure the oven was off, then leaned against the counter and waited for some sort of situation to unfold. You were curious as to how your brother would approach a discussion with an angel, considering that he'd never actually met one but only heard about them via you years before.

"So.....you're an angel."

You were proud of Lucifer for not rolling his eyes or making some sort of sarcastic retort. Part of that pride should probably have been attributed to how not fully awake he was, "Yep."

Joseph looked skeptical, "You don't have any wings...?"

"Just because you can't see them doesn't mean I don't possess them." He snapped, looking irritated. He made a "tch" noise before continuing, "This would be the one time, however, that I do not possess them."

It occurred to you that you'd never really spoken to Lucifer about his wings. You made a mental note.

"So....Angel." Joseph sounded unsure of his own words, "Do you have a name?"

Lucifer glanced at you, catching your amused eye before speaking, "I do."

Before Joseph could ask, Lucifer smirked and said, "Guess."

The look your brother threw at you was incredulous, "That could take a while."

"Well, as long as we're staying here," You piped up, grinning mischievously, "we've got time."

" _We_ _?_ " Joseph laughed bitterly, "No thank you. I've barely got enough to feed one person. How am I going to pay--"

"We can pay rent." Lucifer interrupted.

Both of them looked to you for confirmation. Taking a moment to recall the contents of your car, you hesitated, then nodded once.

Joseph sighed, "Alright, fine. But please don't get me involved in this whole thing. I don't want demons or whatever cornering me all over town and asking about my sister and some angel."

"That's fine with me." Lucifer yawned, then turned to you with a pout, "Take a nap with me?"

"We start researching as soon as you're up."

"Okay. Nap?"

You rolled your eyes but still grabbed his hand when he offered and jogged with him up the stairs.

"Don't wait up!" You called back to Joseph, disappointed that you weren't able to see the look on his face. Your brother had been overly dramatic about most things for as long as you could remember, and sometimes his facial expressions alone could leave you amused for long periods of time.

"What do you think of him?" You asked as you landed on the bed in the spare room.

Lucifer closed the door, then squinted at the wall in thought for a moment, "He's curious, like you, but not as brave. You're endearing. He's just....average."

You shrugged, "Fair enough."

He moved over to the bed and took various suitcases and bags off of its surface. You helped, but only after he'd done most of the work.

Just after the last duffel bag thudded to the carpeted floor, Lucifer hopped onto the bed. He seized your laptop from its place on the floor. You rearranged the pillows so that you could sit against the headboard comfortably. 

"I thought you'd want to get right to business." You commented, referring to his readiness to take a break from everything, "Surely being an angel is more fulfilling than watching a movie."

Once he was situated with his back on the pillows and the laptop in his lap, he leaned over to set a kiss on your forehead, "We deserve a break. Now choose a movie."

"Let's find one about you. How about Rosemary's Baby?" He scrunched his features in disgust. You bit your lip to keep from laughing, "You're right, that could get a bit awkward. How about the one with the elevator?"

"Fine,  _I'll_ pick out a movie." He sighed.

You chuckled and laid your head on his shoulder, ready to enjoy what might be your last few hours of peace with your angel.


	10. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief recap: All that shit happened at Gerard's place. Then the reader and everyone's favorite angel arrived at the house of the reader's twin brother, Joseph. It's been just over a month story wise. Enjoy.

Hundreds of thousands of paper-white crystalline flakes fluttered before your eyes. From your view at your kitchen window the entire neighborhood could be seen, blanketed under piles of compact cold. A swirling breeze captured plenty of the fallout, pushing it around in the swirling mess of frigid wind outside.

God, you'd missed the snow.

You relaxed with your mug of hot coco, reclining in your favorite chair and hugging yourself in your pajamas. You weren't sure exactly how long you'd been there in that position, but it was so comfortable it felt as if months had passed. That wasn't a bad thing, right?

So you lounged there, sipping away and just watching. Your mind was blank, peaceful.

"Enjoying yourself?"

The voice barking at your back startled you so suddenly and incredibly that you fell backwards out of your recliner. You landed face-first at the sneakers of the stranger, spilling hot chocolate all over the place and not really giving a shit. Out of instinct you grabbed at your side for the firepower at your belt only to realize you'd somehow forgotten to bring any sort of protection with you that morning. Great.

It was already too late for any physical form of self defense. Slowly you stood, pushing disheveled hair from your sight and assessing the sneaker-wearing asshole.

He was not quite what you'd expected, but you weren't exactly sure why you'd expected anyone at all. His skin was pale and his hair a soft mahogany. The stranger's lips grinned easily as you glanced over his body, mostly making sure that he wasn't of great threat, but you had a feeling he surmised otherwise. The last thing about him was truly the most astounding, however, because your eyes locked on to his own gorgeous golden orbs, a color you attributed to those of swirling honey and whiskey.

Since the time to cutely respond to his rhetorical inquiry had passed, you questioned him yourself, "Who are you?"

Immediately he shook his head, "Not important, sweetie. All that's important is that I came here with a message."

"From Michael? From _Crowley_? Sorry, sweetie, but I'm not interested."

His close proximity became truly apparent when his hands gripped at your upper arms. Hard. Under regular circumstanes you would have flipped positions and countered the man without hesitation, but somehow, suddenly, you found yourself backed against the window. When had that happened? Weren't you sitting in front of a table? And on a chair? Had the furniture disappeared? 

You still couldn't look away from the strangers beautiful eyes, though. How could you?

That honey gold sparked, "(y/n). This is serious and I need you to listen. You've spent the last month of your life trying to help Lucifer. Lu. Ci. Fer. Do you understand?"

You didn't. Was he trying to scare you? Did he think you were being mind-controlled and desperately needed help out?

"The Devil himself. Bad guy numero uno. The wolf among sheep. The Prince of Darkness and creator of all--" he interrupted himself with a deep breath before continuing, "Look at me. You. Are. Fighting. For. The. Wrong. Side. Aren't you worried about what God will think? About what will happen when you die? What about the fact that your lover wants to wipe out the entire human race? Have you thought about that, (y/n)?"

Overwhelmed, you stuttered, "I...I don't--I mean I haven't..."

"I know you haven't. And for your own sake, (y/n), I need you to do something for me. Can you do that, sweetheart?"

"...yes." You heard yourself say.

"When Lucifer asks you to do something--anything--stop and think about it. Really think about what he's asking and what his endgame is, (y,n), because Lucifer always has an endgame. He cheats, he lies, and he deceives. Never, ever forget that."

The intimidation of his gaze faded with the rise of your anger. Who the Hell did this guy think he was, telling you what to do and what to think? And how the Hell did he get into your house? 

You pretended to ignore how intensely he was attempting to convey his thoughts. You repeated your unanswered question, "Who are you?"

He searched all over your face for an extremely brief moment before relaxing his shoulders a bit and speaking, "I'm Gabriel."

And just like that, he was gone. The chill from the window and the remnants of his presence gave you goosebumps and sent shivers up your spine. 

"Gabriel." You repeated aloud, "...the archangel Gabriel."

And then you woke up.

Your eyes flashed open. The muted colors of the room took a moment to adjust to your sleepy vision. It was dark, but it took you longer than a second to realize you'd sat up when you'd awoken. 

The vivid dream still sat fresh in your mind, which was odd because you had a tendency to instantly forget your dreams. But as far as you knew there was no possible way for angels to contact humans through dreams. It seemed too inconvenient and confusing to be real.

Once you realized you'd been holding your breath, you let go. Your apparently loud exhale caused a stir to the left of you in bed. Wonderful.

He was sitting up and searching your face for signs of danger before you could croon him back to sleep, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Luci. I just had a dream. Go back to sleep." You caressed his cheek until he laid back down onto his side. You mirrored the action.

"What did you dream of?" He pulled you to him when you relaxed, yawning, rubbing your back.

"I dreampt..." You hesitated, "that I was back at my house. It was snowing and it was so warm and peaceful. I miss it there."

You'd apparently persuaded him with your half-truth. He yawned an, "oh," not quite listening. Eyes closed, he kissed your forehead, your cheeks. You caught him at your lips and held him there for a bit, enjoying his taste, his scent. He smiled against your mouth before drifting off to sleep; you followed in suit.

 

 

The unmistakable rhythm of torrential water on a metal surface awoke you. It wasn't exactly pleasant as you were accompanied by both flashbacks of that night at Gerard's manor and of your latest dream. Your thoughts then drifted to the empty space on the bed next to you. You wondered how often others had three archangels on their minds at once.

Once your feet found their way to the floor, your hands snatched up the nearest clothes and you threw them on.

Reverberations sounded through the old house as the front door slammed downstairs. Always on the defensive, you retrieved the pistol from under your pillow and stalked down the stairway. 

Thanks to the open curtains, you spotted your brother sprinting towards the sidewalk as he attempted to stay out of the downpour on his way to work. Relaxing in silent understanding, pelting rain disguised the click of the safety flicking back on on the pistol. 

"A little early for target practice, don't you think?"

Your angel had apparently spotted you tucking the gun back into your waistline from the next room over. He was lounging on the couch with his feet at one end and head at the other, a thick book balanced on his middle. His arm grabbed at a glass bottle which he promptly swigged.

You clicked your tongue, "A little early for a drink."

He shrugged. When you entered the room he routinely set his feet to the floor to allow space for you to occupy.

"You're reading that one again?" You spotted the title of the ancient text when you took your spot on the couch, removing the firearm from your belt and placing it on the coffee table to avoid stabbing yourself in the gut as you sat (you realized this had become routine). The book was something about angels on Earth and the nature of human souls; you weren't exactly sure, you'd only read it once. Lucifer, however, had read it enough to rival any Bible thumper.

"There's something I'm missing. I know there is." He scrunched his nose and flipped through a few pages.

Unwilling to argue, you eyed the stacks and stacks of books, both old and new, on the table and grabbed at one you were somewhat certain you hadn't glanced over already. For the next few hours you skimmed through traditional and digital text, praying for some type of salvation: A clue, a solution; anything. It was the same routine you and Lucifer had had for over a month. Day in, day out, while Joseph went off and worked the two of you researched and researched and, Jesus, you researched. 

The more you'd progressed through the month, the more flashbacks you'd had of finals in high school. Perhaps progressed wasn't the right word, though. Trudged? Sulked? Clearly it hadn't been a fun month, but as Lucifer continued to put it, "Suck it up and get me my grace."

Once you reached the striking finale of your first choice (something about Roman Catholics and the Holy Grail), you moved on to the next and the next, only occasionally breaking for food or the bathroom. Lucifer spent most of his hours on your laptop, that one tome within reach.

The rest of the day was uneventful save for the return of your brother, a dusty pile of religious literature in his grasp. You were all too unimpressed with the new arrivals, but Lucifer got straight to work. You did have to admire his tenacity. 

Once Lucifer gave you permission to do so, around eleven you ditched your reading and fled upstairs to the guest room. As per usual, you were going to bed early and your angel was staying up until his eyes burned with exhaustion, neither of you having found out anything about his grace you didn't already know. 

You were almost convinced that Lucifer would never reclaim his grace from your vessel, but you tried not to let the thought bother you  _too_ much as you drifted off........

Hundreds of thousands of paper-white crystalline flakes fluttered before your eyes. Bits of frigid cold sneaked through the glass, contrasting greatly with the fresh mug of hot chocolate in your hand. The deep maroon recliner underneath you purred as you rocked.

"You aren't listening to me."

Backwards you fell, startled. Liquid spilled, no power at your belt. A wave of familiarity washed over you accompanied by a rush of panic.

You stood. Those honey-golden eyes bore into your soul. You sucked in a breath, "Gabriel."

"(y/n)," He greeted, a sweet smile fading in and out of his expression in a moment, "Why aren't you listening?"

You had no idea what he was talking about and you didn't care, "Get out of my house."

You didn't need to look to know you were pressed against the window. Déjà vu hit at the moment the goosebumps crawled along your skin.

The archangel gripped you, "Tell me you know who he is. What he is." When no response befell him, he shook you, " _Tell me, (y/n)_."

Resent bubbled in your insides. Part of you hated yourself for it, but you answered, "He's the Devil. He wants to kill people. I know, okay? Now leave me the fuck alone and stay out of my dreams."

Gabriel hesitated and you swore you could feel the power thrumming through his fingertips, ready to smite you. But he breathed in, out, in again. He talked at you in a familiar tone, "When Lucifer asks you to do something--anything--stop and think about it. Please. We're counting on you."

_We?_

Alas, before you could respond you felt yourself ripped from fantasy and shoved back into reality. This time there was a face there in front of yours, all worry lines and quick breaths.

You were sitting, which you couldn't remember doing. Your throat felt dry.

Lucifer ran hands over your face, arms, chest. You thought he might think you were still dreaming, but when his fingers stopped at your wrist you realized he was checking your vitals.

"I'm okay." You heard yourself suggest.

He didn't seem convinced. You cupped his face and planted a soft kiss on his lips. When he relaxed, you let go and repeated yourself calmly, "I'm okay. What happened?"

He swallowed, "You...yelled. You were telling someone to get out of your house."

"It was just a dream." You insisted perhaps a little too quickly.

His eyes hooded in suspicion in that way they did, but his face smoothed out in a second, "What was it about?"

"Um...me and you. We went back to my house and your brother was there. Michael."

He nodded absentmindedly. To your relief, he accepted the story, "Okay. Alright. Tell me if it happens again, won't you?"

Somewhere in the back of your mind, that request irked you. Gabriel's words echoed in your brain and  _that_ irked you...but you had to consider his insinuations. Lucifer had to be asking you to do this because he wanted nothing more than to watch out for your well-being. Right?

"(y/n)."

You sucked in a breath, composing yourself with a few blinks. You had nothing to feel guilty for. Well, you know, besides lying to one of the most important people in the world to you.

"Sure, yeah. I'll tell you if I dream of it again, Luci."

"...good." He eyed you with open suspicion then but said nothing more. The scrutiny of his gaze drove you mad.

"Let's get back to sleep." You brushed his jaw with your thumb, attempting to distract him. It worked. You parted your lips easily for him, returning his kiss with enough genuine passion to bring that adorable smile to his face. Eventually you were yawning more than kissing and unobstructed sleep found its way to you.

 

 

Another day. Research, food, research, bathroom, research...

At one point, near midday, it became obvious to you that you were going stir crazy. This was apparent when you found that you'd been pacing around the kitchen for five straight minutes.

You looked up, spotting him through the archway, "Lucifer--"

"We've been over this." He stated, not looking up from the laptop.

Sometimes you couldn't stand how much control he had over you, "I need to leave this house. ASAP."

Instead of speaking, he patted the emptiness next to him, beckoning you. You growled, "No demon is going to recognize me the moment I step out the door."

Finally you sparked something because he stared right at you, "Better safe than sorry. Now sit."

"I'm not a goddamned _dog_." You restrained yourself from grinding your teeth or digging the nails into your palms.

And then he was too wrapped up in his research to notice how fucking frustrated you were -- he didn't even glance in your direction. 

Pissed and annoyed beyond redemption, you stomped to the first room available, the laundry room, and slammed the door behind you like the child you were. Vaguely, almost in the distance, you heard him shout after you but you really didn't give a shit. He'd been bossing you around and treating you like a housepet for an entire damned month. 

So you locked the door behind you and turned around, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to block him out. He could be so overbearing and arrogant and straight up bossy and you hated it. You felt that very hate swirling around in the depths of your soul, contracting and lashing out in fits.

A few seconds passed before you exhaled and opened your eyes a bit, spying the piles of unwashed clothing on the floor. It was mostly the angel's, of course, because he was "too important" to need to know how to do laundry or wash dishes or work the shower. 

Though something among the piles caught your attention: a pair of shoes? Who would....and then you felt a wave of fresh, horrendous panic and fear as you realized those shoes were connected to a pair of legs--

And you'd left your gun with Lucifer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all feedback appreciated! Here's to hoping I'll have the inspiration to write the next chapter soon!: D


	11. Don't forget to breathe!

You woke with a start.

Three senses hit you at once: Touch, sight, sound. First you concluded that you were in a freezing structure of a chair, metal, you decided, with your wrists trapped behind its back. Next the blinding lights from above pierced your retinas, causing you to squint and try to identify your surroundings. The worst, however, was probably the sound. Except for the muted buzzing of the lighting, complete silence engulfed you.

Once your eyes finally adjusted, you whipped your head around to map out your current abode. Only three walls were within eye shot -- all dull gray and smooth, about ten feet by ten feet. When you attempted to yank the frigid chair in another direction you did nothing but bash your funny bone into its side, an involuntary gasp of pain escaping your lips as minuscule white spots speckled your vision. Concrete. Great.

The agony mostly subsided within seconds, so you continued your inspection. The walls were completely bare, as was everything else save for the fluorescent tubes lining the ceiling. And no matter how determined you were to sneak a glance behind yourself, the rope that connected your upper arms and wrists to the sole bit of furniture in the trapped area was tight enough to do nothing but give you rope burn. What a truly fantastic situation you found yourself in.

Was it bad that you had no idea how you'd gotten there?

"Hello?" You called out, probably stupidly, to the empty walls. Again you attempted to pull your forearms apart to no avail.

It was hours that you sat there before anything happened. Or, at least, it felt like hours as all you could do was stuff the rising bouts of fear further down into your gut. At one point you had tried to do that thing you'd seen in movies where the character would squeeze their eyes shut, then open them to realize "it's been a dream all along!" but no such peace found you. Anyway.

The sound of squeaking, un-oiled metal reached your ears. You jumped in your seat, the rope digging more into your already sore flesh. A few seconds passed before it sounded again, only this time closer to your left ear. A door had opened and closed.

Nothing happened. Your heartbeat grew steadily stronger as blood pulsed through your ears and rushed through your veins. 

"Who's there?" You accused the walls, your voice too shaky to allow for faked confidence.

Again, nothing happened. Then in the vast span of two seconds, you distinctly heard and noted footsteps approaching at your backside before two warm, almost hot fingers pressed harshly at your temple. 

Everything went black.

 

 

 

Groggily, begrudgingly, you forced open your eyes.

You were on your back. Something firm laid underneath you and no extremely fluorescent lights immediately punctured your vision. In fact, the ceiling was now empty and an ugly off-white.

Realizing the new gravity of the situation, you sat abruptly. As soon as the all-encompassing head rush passed, you took in your surroundings. Standing out was the small rusted toilet on the opposite wall. Your gaze drifted left where your heart sank in absolute, desperate hopelessness as several black bars greeted you. Trying to ignore the inagnorable fact that you were in a jail cell, you glanced to the mattress underneath, covered in a simple white sheet, and to the wall on your right where moonlight shone bright through the barred, tiny window.

Out of instinct you hopped to the opening to examine the outside world. Despair hit like a bitch when you beheld nothing but a forest of snow-encased pine trees. For all you knew you were in the middle of nowhere.

You turned back to approach the bars of the cell, but were stopped in your tracks when a shadowy figure already stood on the other side, lanky and unmoving.

Your breath caught, and with that intake of air you realized suddenly how dry your throat was. In fact, now that you'd noticed it it was almost impossible to breathe without fiercely uncomfortable pain lashing at you.

The figure shifted a bit, just out of sight of the window's natural lighting, before yelling down the hall, "She's awake."

You spotted a glint in his eye as he glanced at you, then away. He then stalked down the hall, the way you assumed he'd come from considering your cell seemed to be at the end of a row. When he was gone you took a tentative step toward the front bars of the cage. You tilted your head down in an attempt to hear the murmurs of a faraway conversation. Someone snapped you out of your reverie by literally snapping their fingers.

"Water?" Michael suggested, reaching through to offer a glass of enticing liquid.

Your brain barked at you to reject the offer.  _It's compliance!_ It screamed, begging,  _Take it and you'll be obligated to do something in return!_ Yet your throat burned like hellfire had found its scorching way into your body. You reminisced of times when the sweet liquid poured down your gullet, its imaginary floodwaters extinguishing your torment.

Easily swayed as you often were, you ripped the glass from his grip, careful not to touch his fingers. On your sore throat the water was heavenly, there and gone in a second. You used your sleeve to wipe the drizzling remnants from your chin, unspeaking.

The archangel's eyes took in the moonlight, giving him an even further sense of mysterious superiority. Hundreds of hateful remarks and accusations prepared to leap from your tongue, but you held it firmly in place.

He cleared his throat, "I imagine you'd like to know how you got here. What's going on? What day it is?"

You  _despised_ that those were exactly the questions you wanted to throw his way...plus some colorful profanity. But you kept your cool. You set the empty glass sideways on the spotless floor, butting it with your foot so that it rolled and clanked against the bars.

"Alright, fine. If you don't want to talk to me...." he glanced down the hallway and nodded once. You expected to hear footsteps but, well, angel rules. Next to Michael appeared his brother, eyes shimmering beautifully in the night light.

"(y/n), sweetheart, it's been too long." Gabriel grinned, face full of unabashed smugness.

Had it really been that long? Like Michael pointed out, you had no idea what day it was. For all you knew it'd been a week since Gabriel last visited you in your dreams. That's what you assumed he'd been doing, anyway.

He sighed, caressing one of the bars with his knuckle, "It's the wall between us, isn't it?" Suddenly he was directly in front of you -- inside the cell. Your expression must have been hilarious because he laughed aloud. You relaxed your shoulders, crossed your arms, and spit in his face.

Gabriel halted his laughter abruptly. He wiped the saliva from his cheek. His honey irises seemed genuinely hurt by your action, but you stood your ground and glared as defiantly as possible.

The archangel took a deep breath before inclining his head and giving you a stern, almost fatherly stare, "Listen, (y/n), beautiful, I'm going to pretend that didn't happen. All I need is for you to talk with me for a little bit. I know you can do that, honey."

All the pet names he threw at you seemed more degrading than they had in the dreams so long ago. God help you, you wanted nothing more than to spit on him again; that action would cause nothing but problems for you, though, and you needed a way out of the situation.

So you spoke, focused on hissing the words with aimed precision, "There is only one archangel I want to talk to."

Michael scoffed from outside. You caught him shaking his head and avoiding your eyes. Gabriel sighed half-heartedly, "Brother dearest isn't here at the moment. You'll have to settle for one of us."

"So he's alive." You concluded, doing your best to shield a wash of relief.

It was silent for a second as you guessed the angels were approaching their next words with caution. It wasn't the first time you'd been interrogated (and probably not the last) and they knew that. They knew that any little slip up was something for you to use against them. 

The moment of silence ended. Michael said each word slowly, intending to cut you with every syllable, "If you don't cooperate, he won't be for much longer."

You searched intently on both their faces for signs of a bluff: Covering of the face, too much eye contact, feet shuffling.....nothing. Everything about them was stoic and serious, save for the ever-hidden spark in Gabriel's eye, leading you to believe they were telling the truth. Or, even if they really were bluffing, you had to treat it as the truth just in case.

You swallowed, shifting your weight to one foot, "Both of you know that I would never utter another word to you if you killed him."

Neither of them spoke and the hairs on the back of your neck raised. Doubt poked around the edges of your thoughts, begging to be let in. 

"Gabriel." Michael nodded once at his brother, "Time to leave."

Michael disappeared from sight. Gabriel lingered. He patted you once on the head, winked, and murmured a quiet, "Later, buttercup," before following in suit.

 

 

 

You couldn't sleep.

This time you were sure it had been hours you'd been stuck in a confined space with no information on your angel or, to an admittedly lesser degree, your brother. The clock at the end of the hall ticked endlessly and you were convinced it was driving you insane. Occasionally you'd hear a shuffling of feet or a grunt of some sort, but nothing past that. 

Since Michael and Gabriel had left, you'd done nothing but worry about your angel; you worried of his whereabouts, his condition, and how he was coping without someone, specifically you, to console him. 

At first you'd paced about the room, then laid in bed for hours (an unsuccessful sleeping attempt), then tried to break away a piece of bed frame to use as a weapon, and then tried to squeeze your hand through the window to grab at something, anything, to help. In the end you sat in the middle of the cold, bare floor. You listened to that incessant ticking forever. Forever until you finally drifted off at sunrise.

 

 

 

Your breath couldn't be held fast enough. Stinging salt water engulfed every crack and orifice on your face. You were drowning.

And then you weren't.

And then you were again.

For what you counted as the tenth time, the henchman at your side hoisted you out of the water by your collar. Your hair and shirt clung to you as you gasped for air, shivering at the feeling of the freezing water making contact with the chilling night air and your skin. 

"Anytime, (y/n)." Michael warned. He was referring to how he desperately needed you to spit out everything you knew about Lucifer and his current "grace situation," but you hadn't uttered a single word the first few times he'd asked, so the angel had taken the next logical step: Torture.

"Nah, this feels nice." Your chest heaved as you forced the words out. The snow in your shoes had already numbed your toes and your eyes were stinging so badly you could no longer keep them open without excruciating discomfort, "I'm glad you allowed me some fresh air for once."

"Again." He barked.

The woman gripping you collar, who you assumed was a loyal angel, dunked you back under the ice water. It hit you like a thousand icicles thrown by a baseball pitcher at your face. This time was different, however, because you stayed in the water for longer than any one before. You shook violently, splashes sounding somewhere in another world.  _I'm all done now, guys! Let me out!_ You wanted to exclaim. You forced yourself not to intake anything, but the throb in your chest was so agonizing all every fiber of you wanted to do was just  _let go._ The scariest part of it had to be that you were beginning to feel woozy, like you might faint. In fact, just before you went to let go, just before your brain shut down completely, she yanked you out of your misery.

This time you were let go completely. You hit the ground with a thud and the snow at your back felt wonderful, like nature had made a blanket just for you. You coughed up an alarming amount of liquid before your lungs felt the sweet relief of good ol' oxygen again. You curled halfway into the fetal position, coughing and gasping and shuddering in the blanket of fresh, beautiful snow. Someone above you said something, you were sure of it, but the only sense you really had left working properly was taste -- not that the salt and blood mixture in your mouth and at the back of your throat was something to revel in.

A few more words were said, you believed, before some snow around you shuffled a bit. It was odd that it no longer felt cold against your bare skin. With your eyes swelling shut and your limbs practically numb, you weren't sure when you fell back into sweet, blissful sleep.

 

 

 

You were beginning to get used to the sleepless nights. It'd been over 28 hours by your count since any angel had last attempted to question you. You had little idea how much time you'd spent kidnapped (a week? Two?), but the fact didn't scare you so much as it worried you for your angel and your brother -- compared to your experience the two of them put together barely made a hunter. 

You lounged on the hard floor, your back against the wall bearing the window. The moon was either new or shielded by a cloud layer because not one ray of light illuminated the cell. But your eyes had adjusted long ago.

Your downturned gaze drifted to the bottles of water across the hall, out of reach, tempting you. A few days back Michael had explained that until you gave up some info on "Lucifer and his plans," you'd be slowly dying of thirst.

This strategy hadn't really affected you in any major way, though, because the idiotic minions that left food outside the cage gave you an orange every single day without fail. 

You tried again to break off a piece of the bed frame, but you decided it was the same iron of the bars and that it wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. So instead you leaned against the wall and listened to the clock tick away. 

Eventually you assumed you had drifted off because it felt as if you'd blinked and suddenly plentiful sunlight surrounded you. Unfortunately nature wasn't what had had the pleasure of awakening you, though.

"Get up."

"Good morning to you too." You nodded at Michael, smiling bitterly and not moving an inch, "Are we back to talking now?"

His posture was cool and collected, but you could see the fire in his eyes. Either he wanted to strangle you or throw you in Hell and watch you eternally suffer, popcorn in hand. Probably both.

He glowered at your grin, "Talking hasn't worked." He glanced at the bottles behind him, "Neither has bargaining. Or....persuasion."

"Torture." You corrected. Even the thought of pouring liquid over your head made your eyes sting and lungs move faster.

He cleared his throat, "There's only one more thing I could think to do."

The archangel took a deep breath and pulled a key from his pocket. Your breath caught as he shoved it into the lock on the bars of your cell, then turned. It was a good sign that he was letting you walk out rather than poofing you on his own, right? 

And the door opened. You stood, hesitantly, then stopped dead as he whistled to the other end of the hall. A few pairs of feet hurried toward you at a quick pace, a grunt sounding.

Over stepped two minions and...

"Lucifer!"

Michael must have given some faint signal because both minions released their grip on your angel. He darted his eyes around the cell before flashing the biggest smile you'd ever seen on his features. Without hesitation or thought, you rushed to his embrace and planted a long-needed kiss on his lips. He must have been expecting such a greeting because he returned the action with vigor.

"You're alive." He breathed, touching your face, "I've been in a cell too. Somewhere west of here, I think."

His aqua eyes shone with so much relief and concern you, for lack of a better phrase, wanted to drown in them.

"West? How do you..." You shook your head, knowing you could ask him all about his past few weeks later. Instead you let go of your angel and turned to the other, your glare strong, "Where the Hell is my brother?"

The archangel looked passively taken aback, as if you'd just insulted his intelligence, "We have no quarrel with Joseph. He's at home, untouched."

"And worried out of his fucking mind." You finished for him, seething. Your brother was rather well-known by those close to him for his extreme anxiety; he'd no doubt had a panic attack upon realizing you and Lucifer had up and disappeared, leaving everything behind.

"(y/n), love, calm down. Michael promised to have someone explain to Joseph that you and I are safe and sound." Your angel murmured, caressing your face again.

You had to control yourself so that you wouldn't gape at Lucifer, turning your head to meet his gaze, "He what? You know that'll worry him to the point of goddamned abandon!"

"Language." Micheal growled.

You went to yell at him, but Lucifer stopped you before you could even take a breath, "Now, if we tell you about my grace and how we're going to get it out of her, you'll let us free, correct, brother?"

Michael set his jaw, almost hissing his word, "Yes."

Without giving you even a moment to think, both angels turned to you expectantly. Unprepared to be on the spot so suddenly, you stuttered, "I...what? The grace?"

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, (y/n), Lucifer's grace. How do we get it out of you?"

You glanced warily at Lucifer, who gave you an encouraging nod. What in God's name was going on? Did Lucifer think you'd figured out how to get his grace out of your body and you hadn't told him? Perhaps he only wanted to be sure that you were really still alive, no matter the risk. Or perhaps there was something else going on? Something the angels were hiding from you?

Apparently you'd been hesitating too long. Your angel cleared his throat, glancing about in a nervous manner, "Anytime, love."

"......you tell him."

"What?"

"You heard me." Hesitant and suspicious, you took a tentative step away from your angel, nodding in Michael's direction without looking away from that blue sparkling gaze, "You know the plan. You tell him."

He was already shaking his head before he spoke, "(y/n) that's...that's not part of the deal Michael and I made--"

"What difference does it make, Luci?" You interrupted, "You do remember our plan for your own angelic grace, don't you?"

He paused, glanced at his brother, then looked back at you. If he was playing an angle, you had literally no idea what it was. He exhaled evenly before a smirk crept onto his face, "She's just too smart for us, brother."

Fearing the worst, that your love had betrayed you, you squared your shoulders and bit into you cheek. Michael sighed, annoyed.

And then Lucifer was gone. And Gabriel had taken his spot.

Gabriel huffed a laugh, his sharp golden eyes avoiding anyone else's, "You know, for a minute there I thought you might actually tell us."

You felt utterly betrayed. You spoke your thoughts aloud, you words a little shakier than you would've preferred, "He was never here then. I have no way of knowing if he's okay. Or alive, even."

"It was worth a shot." Gabriel shrugged, eyes on Michael. Not only had they tortured you both physically and mentally, they were now ignoring you.

And just like that, your cage door was slammed shut, locked, and they were gone. 

Once again you were alone.

Lost.

Scared.


	12. The Lord's Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that next week will be the last week of my "a chapter a week for a month" experiment! If you're enjoying it please leave a comment here or message me on dragonizz.tumblr.com to let me know! Thanks a ton for reading, babes.<3

"I'm getting tired of asking, (y/n). What is Lucifer's plan? How is he going to remove his grace from your vessel? What does he hope to do once he gets it?"

You were in a bit of a...sticky situation. While Michael accused you of knowing some kind of secret information, one of his angels had your arm in some sort of professional wrestler's lock and was twisting your wrist and pulling your shoulder farther and farther over your head and behind your back, causing unbelievable bouts of pain.

One thing you'd realized from your short time with Lucifer's dearest brother was that he never did his own dirty work. He'd ask a question and command another angel to do something, hardly ever actually explaining what to do. Sometimes he looked away when you screamed or yelled out in pain, especially when you took the Lord's name in vain. It was one of his greatest weaknesses, really.

Keeping these things in mind, you ignored him and commented on the torture itself instead, "Jesus fuck, you could hold off on the nail digging a little there, buddy."

Unsure of how to respond, or even whether to acknowledge your request, the acolyte glanced expectantly at Michael. Had angels not had superhuman strength, you would have used the opportunity to reclaim your body and kickbox your way out of the situation, but you were never so lucky, were you?

The archangel glared at you with outright contempt and commanded, "Break it."

"Wha--" Was all you managed to get out before the kid yanked your arm in a grisly, unnatural fashion, sending electrifying bolts of sheer agony throughout your upper body. You shrieked out in pain, spitting a profanity here and there. When he finally,  _finally_ , let go you yanked the arm back to your front, not even looking and still knowing your shoulder was out of its socket. You couldn't help the way it hung limply at your side or the fresh tears streaming down your face. You did your best to ignore it all though, a true hunter, and look him straight in the eyes.

Michael didn't look away. His voice was loud, confident, "What is Lucifer's plan?"

It took all your might to focus your mind on something other than the torment you were under, "Do you think God approves of torture, Michael?"

His knuckles were clenched tight into his fists, white. He didn't say another word. Instead, he nodded at the other angel, then at you. The next thing you were aware of was a sharp pain on the right side of your face, then you were looking up at the blazing afternoon sun. You'd been punched in the face, you realized.

You waited for his questions to come, but none did; this was punishment. The kid straddled your midsection before punching you again. Again. Again. You and the throbbing aches of your face became quite familiar with his fists. The fifth time he struck you heard a loud crack -- your nose breaking no doubt. He hit you once more for what you hoped was the final time because the vision in your left eye became tainted with red. It was a miracle that not a single tooth had broken, but when you dabbed your tongue around the inside of your mouth you concluded that you had, in fact, lost two molars and chipped a canine. 

Abruptly the beating stopped. Glowing sun seeped back into your sight, the red in your pupil causing the sky to transform into a magnificent red-orange. But then your vision began to fade in and out before you blacked out completely.

 

 

 

Your head throbbed. You had no idea whatsoever how long you'd slept since your last torture session, but you remembered it immediately due to the way your arm begged you to do anything to subside the excruciating pain and the way your left eye refused to budge open. That and the general burning sensation on your face were surprisingly not what had awoken you, however.

From your one half-opened eye, you made out Gabriel's shape at the other end of your bed. He was hunched over, head in his hands.

"Gu-merning." You slurred, your tongue swollen.

He bitterly huffed a laugh from his nose, a bottle of water appearing in his hand as he handed it to you, "Good morning, sweetheart. It's the middle of the night, by the way."

Despite the absolute demand of your body's ache to be the most prevalent, you did your best to ignore it and let out an easy chuckle. You ended up coughing halfway through, causing you to feel pathetic. You grabbed the water from his grip and chugged it down as best you could past the overgrown muscle in your mouth. It did little to quench the burning in your throat.

"For the record, I had no idea he was doing this to you." He commented gravely, passing along another bottle from thin air and finally making eye contact. He winced at what he saw.

You swallowed the entire contents of it before shrugging, knowing speaking aloud was out of the question. On Gabriel's behalf, he hadn't been present at any of the torture sessions as far as you knew. It wouldn't be the first time he'd played innocent and tried to fuck you over, though.

"This would be easier if I could read your thoughts." 

You gave him a look of pure confusion. Apparently you didn't know as much about angels as you'd previously thought you did. He seemed to take this as an "you mean you can't?" expression, "Normally I could, but with your....situation and all."

It took several seconds for you to realize he meant Lucifer's grace and not your physical condition. He stole another glance at you and winced again, which was beginning to get annoying.

"I'm sorry, I can't look at you like this." He murmured, the most serious you thought you'd ever seen him. The archangel lifted his hand to hover it in front of your face. Out of instinct you flinched, leaning back to stay out of reach. He rolled his eyes, then appeared closer to you than before so that he could wrap a hand around your neck. He used that to hold you in place as he hovered the other appendage over your eyes. You squinted at the blinding white before opening them again. Both eyes.

Amazed, you brought a hand to your formerly swollen, beaten face. You could see fine now but your shoulder still begged attention and your nose still couldn't be touched. Inside your face seemed better as well, because you felt your tongue again at its normal size and the formerly lost teeth were mostly back intact.

"Thank you." You breathed. Fresh air felt nice when it wasn't  _completely_ outranked by horrible unadulterated pain.

For a second you got lost in the whiskey brew of his eyes, the honey gold sparkling in the bit of moonlight that shined on his face. For that moment you forgot that someone with such a beautiful feature could be so conniving and so willing to undercut a potential ally at every turn -- purely a lapse of judgement. Which is how you would choose to describe what happened when Gabriel then leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your lips.

He leaned off when you weren't kissing back after a second or two. At a complete loss for words, you watched him watch you. Apparently you looked somewhat mortified because he smiled apologetically, "Oops."

The moment you came back to your senses you forced yourself to avoid his gorgeous eyes and pushed him away, out of arm's reach, "You can leave now."

He opened his mouth to say something, but ultimately closed it and lifted his fingers to snap, signalling his goodbye. The moment he disappeared you exhaled a held breath, uncomfortable and trying to ignore your own feelings.

So you laid down on the tiny mattress and pulled the sheet over yourself, up to your chin. Sometimes you wished you didn't have as many emotions as you seemed to.

 

 

 

Your awakening was caused, for the first time in what seemed like forever, by an archangel. Or two, to be exact.

Outside your cell and down the hall you could clearly make out shouting between the brothers. From what you could tell, it was about you.

"... _beat her to a pulp._ I honestly  _do not care_ what kind of crap she was saying about Dad, Michael! We're not trying to kill her here!"

" _Calm down, Gabriel._ The last thing we need is to fight and for this building to be completely destroyed."

"Oh sorry, bro, was that another order from Crowley? You know, the demon that's making you his bitch?"

Crowley? After all that happened at Gerard's manor and with the demon defections, they were still working with Crowley? For a brief moment you contemplated whether the minions at Michael's disposal had really been angels after all.

One of the brothers must have flown off, because there was a disgruntled sound before stomping footsteps began to make their way up the hall. Knowing full well that it could be Michael ready to take you on a rage-induced torture session, you turned on your side and pretended to sleep.

"I know you're awake, (y/n). Come on, we're leaving."

It was Gabriel's voice. You sat quickly, scrambling off the bed, "Leaving? Like, _leaving_ leaving?"

He nodded, his brow furrowed in determination. You took a glance down at your disheveled clothing. The angels had been giving you changes of clothes, of course, but that didn't stop the blood from the day before from ruining your white T-shirt and jeans. When you did this Gabriel too must have realized how such an outfit would look in public and snapped. Suddenly you found yourself in a brand new, stainless version of the old set of fabrics. You also noticed the hospital grade sling on your useless arm and thanked him with a silent nod.

You were positive that under less emotional circumstances, Gabriel would not have chosen to free you rather than work something out with his brother. Maybe he'd finally realized that you and Lucifer really had  _no idea_ what to do about his grace, but you found it more likely that he was acting on impulse due to the "discussion" he'd just had with Michael and his clear feelings for you. Either way, you weren't about to dissuade him from the idea.

The look he sent your way was something between concern and frustration, but you didn't have time to decipher it before you were in a new location. Snowflakes caught at your eyelashes and accumulated around your shoes. When you breathed the air breathed with you, a visible cloud forming in the breeze. You were free.

It took only one glance around to know exactly where you were. Gabriel must have noticed the subzero temperature then, because he placed a hand on your left arm, your free arm, and rubbed it in a comforting, warming manner. 

He was close, his words low and urgent, "Listen to me, beautiful. Michael is going to notice you're missing within an hour -- sooner if I'm not there to stall him. I need you to take your brother and mine and get them to safety. I don't need to know where, just make sure they're safe, okay?"

You nodded quickly, your heart speeding up with the urgency of his demands. 

"Good luck, (y/n)." He whispered before placing a quick kiss on your forehead and disappearing. 

You took one deep breath, turned to Joseph's house, and ran up the porch. You didn't bother knocking or even trying the handle -- you'd taught both of them better than to leave the door unlocked so early in the morning. Instead you picked up the stupid fake rock, out of place on Joseph's porch, and used the key underneath to click open both locks.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you were met with the sound of shattering glass. You turned on your heel to spot your twin brother in his bathrobe, standing in a pile of freshly spilled coffee and pieces of mug.

A cheesy, emotional smile crept onto your face, "Good morning."

"You're alive." He whispered, his eyes welled with tears. You could practically see his heart swelling from where you were standing. 

You wanted to say "barely" but decided it best to just nod and smile. Before you knew it, Joseph had hopped over the pool of simmering liquid, dodged and dining chair, and nearly jumped into your arms. Every bit of air was knocked out of you, not to mention the returned pain in your slung arm, but you managed to grin as giddily as he and give back a squeezing, one-armed hug.

Once past the warm greeting, however, you decided it best to stop beating around the bush, "Where is he?"

"He's gotten worse and worse." Your brother dodged your question, worrying you greatly, "Ever since you disappeared it's like he's been on a manhunt. He had a breakthrough about something at one point...he tried to explain it to me but I'm not...." he took a breath, "He's upstairs."

You thanked him, but paused before sprinting up the stairway, "Joseph, this is very, very important. I need you to pack everything important and get in the car. If we're not out of the house in the next hour...."

You trailed off, but to your relief he seemed to understand. He asked about your arm but you shook your head and told him you'd explain later before taking the longest trek up a set of stairs of your entire life.

And before you knew it, you were in the hallway. Then the door of a room from what seemed like a life long past was in front of you, in reach. You placed a steady hand on the handle, remembering at once every single dream you'd had of this moment in the past....well, a long while. You turned the handle and let the door swing open.

There he was, your love, sitting criss-crossed on the disheveled bed, his back to the door and his eyes on a laptop. Your laptop. Almost to your surprise, you felt tears come to your eyes at the sight of his messy blond hair and his profile illuminated in the darkness by the luminescent screen. 

"I'll have breakfast later." He mumbled, mistaking you for your brother.

Too choked up to actually speak, you bit your smile and whispered his name, "Lucifer."

Initially he turned to give you a face full of misunderstanding frown lines, but as soon as he recognized you his mouth was agape. Laptop, bed, and all other surrounding forgotten, he beelined to you and grabbed around your waist to lift you from the ground and place an amorous kiss on your lips. You grinned despite yourself.

When he set you down he got serious, his eyes dark and his brows together, though he continued to hold you to him, "Where have you been? Who did this to you?"

You glanced at your arm with him, "Michael."

Just as you suspected they would, his eyes glowed with hatred. 

"We have to go." You commanded, attempting to push him off. Once he begrudgingly let you free, you hurried to the other end of the room and stuffed clothes, your laptop, a toothbrush, and most things close by into a suitcase, "The only reason I'm here is because your brother helped me escape and if we don't go now they'll catch us."

You glanced to the door frame where he stood unmoved, confused, "Michael helped you escape?"

"Gabriel." You zipped up the suitcase and began on Lucifer's when he still didn't make an attempt to move.

"I have a bag in the closet." He monotoned, nodding his head sideways toward the thing, "...did you say Gabriel?"

Leaving his inquiry unanswered, you rushed to the closet and shuffled through the mess there, finally finding a black duffel bag stuffed almost out of reach. Inside were all essentials needed for a quick getaway. You grinned, proud of your angel.

You went to carry your luggage downstairs, but were halted in the doorway by Lucifer and his shell shocked face.

"What's wrong?" You asked, dropping the suitcase to run a thumb across his cheek.

He blinked at you, his brows together, "Gabriel's dead."

"Uh...no?" You looked him up and down, "Are you okay?"

"No, (y/n). I mean it. Gabriel died." He must have known you were about to ask about how he could be so sure, because he then confessed to something that halted your breath, "I killed him."

"But I....He was just outside!"

His expression was of disbelief. You knew that neither of you would be bringing the conversation anywhere soon, so you picked the suitcase back up and pushed past him. 

Downstairs, Joseph was fully dressed and clutching two suitcases of his own. He seemed surprised to see you.

"Everything OK?" You spoke as you made your way to the front door, luggage clutched close.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, it's just...I'm not used to seeing you...you know, here."

You snickered, grabbing the familiar keys to your shiny black mustang on your way out, calling to him as you shut the door, "Better get used to me being around real soon, kid."


	13. Blood Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here marks the end of our chapter-a-week fun! This took a lot of work, but I know you guys appreciate it. If you'd like me to do something like this in the future, please let me know. :)

"Alright, officially out of city limits." Joseph stated, peering over the side of the driver's seat of your beautiful Mustang to glance at you, "Talk."

As soon as the three of you had left the house, probably not to return for weeks, months even, Joseph and Lucifer had made you promise to tell them every single thing that'd happened since your departure. You'd needed time to order your thoughts, especially after they dropped the bomb that you'd been missing for exactly 27 days.

You were lying sideways in the backseat, your head on Lucifer's lap who in turn sat behind your brother. The amazingly comforting sensation of your angel petting your hair would have lulled you to sleep in a less stressful situation.

"Start at the beginning." He reminded you.

"Right. So. I guess the first thing that happened was my kidnapping. Er, no, before that. Gabriel had been visiting me in my dreams -- I'm pretty sure that was just a cover to figure out where we were staying." Since your original discussion of Gabriel's current, very alive state, Lucifer hadn't mentioned or asked about his brother. You thought it off that he didn't say anything now, but suddenly a distant of memory of a night where you'd lied outright to your angel filled your head, something you'd just admitted to, "Oh, Luci I'm--"

"Shh, it's fine. Continue."

And you did. You started with the kidnapping, then went on to your next memory of the cement room with the permanent chair, and then to your cell. The gruesome details were a bit difficult to say aloud, but you'd promised everything; you had left out the more....intimate scenes, however. During the torture parts Joseph fumed, going on and on about how he'd take any chance to do the exact same to Michael, but Lucifer had stayed completely silent. You were scared to look at his face, to study his expression, but eventually you did. You'd expected anger or disgust but instead found complete indifference. When he'd caught you staring he'd tilted his head, a sign of affection, but did nothing more.

"...Then he dropped me off at the house and, well, you know the rest." You concluded, briefly noting that you'd been driving for about an hour. You'd instructed Joseph to take you north, which he seemed to be obeying if the interstate signs had any indication. You cleared your throat, "So....I missed Christmas. How was that?"

Your twin shook his head and Lucifer snorted. You grinned, "What, I miss something good?"

"Something great." Lucifer corrected, a devious smirk on his lips.

You sat up on the seat then, eager to hear the story. Joseph began, "When we got up at some point in the afternoon (three I think?), we were tired and depressed. We'd been searching for you for weeks already..."

"We thought we'd never spend another Christmas with you." Lucifer piped up. You swallowed down a rush of emotions and listened hard.

Joseph continued, "So, anyway, I start to get ready to leave the house. And when he asks where I'm going I explain how this church down the street is open all day, giving free food and saying the occasional prayer. Now, you'll remember, you never had told me his name and I'd never asked--"

"No." You grinned, disbelieving.

They both fought back their own reminiscent smiles, " _So_ , I say 'why don't you come with me? You do kinda belong in a church.' and he goes, 'I really don't.' so like the smartass I am I go, 'What are you, the Devil?' And then we just sit their in silence for a few seconds before--"

"Before he starts to look at me like I'm Godzilla, lounging on his couch." 

"We did end up going to church together, though."

The three of you laughed out loud, probably for the first time in a long time. Soon enough you were wiping tears from your eyes and fighting off giggles, "I wish I could've been there."

A silence eventually overtook the car, the laughter having turned into soft chuckles and then the occasional sobering exhale. 

"What else did I miss?" You asked tentatively, your upper body twisted to face your angel, "Joseph said you figured something out?"

It was something you said. That's what sparked Lucifer to life. Suddenly his eyes were as bright as his smile and his limbs were gesturing along with his words, "My grace! (y/n), I figured it out!"

Hesitant, you held back your excitement, "You mean--?"

"I know how to get it out of you!" 

You smiled together, but reality caught up with you, and your emotions shifted to angry irritation, "Wait...so Michael was torturing me for a question only _you_ had the answer to?"

His eyebrows moved together in a show of pity, an expression you'd been dreading. You were an ex-Hunter for God's sakes, it wasn't like you couldn't handle yourself. 

"I'm sorry, guys, I'm confused here. What is he trying to pry out of you? A grace?" 

Lucifer met your brother's squinted eyes in the rear-view mirror to answer his question for you, "I already tried explaining this to you."

He shrugged, "Try again."

Briefly you explained the whole "time traveling angelicy" thing to the best of your abilities. You then consequently had to explain how archangel grace could only be held in certain vessels and how timeline merging worked. By the end of it he seemed comprehending enough, but the subtle hint of confusion never fled his features.

"Enough suspense." You brought full attention back to the ex-angel, nodding encouragingly.

"I don't know why I ever expected anything different: It's a spell. There are a lot of....obscure ingredients, but I trust in our genius minds to obtain them somehow." He took one of your hands and rested it in his, your palm face-up. He drew an invisible circle on it with his free hand, "This is my grace. Besides its occasional protective measure, it's dormant. To put it simply..." He jabbed a finger into the sensitive skin at the center of your palm.

"Ouch!" You let out, surprised and involuntarily curling your fingers.

"...we need to spark it." He continued, his face that of a child opening presents, "To awaken it; to enliven it. And then," He lifted your hand to his nose. You felt his warm breath against your palm as he spoke, eyes closed, "It'll find its way back to me."

You could practically see him drinking in his power...and a part of you loved it. You wondered though if Lucifer at his full potential would be just as sexy or slightly terrifying. 

He had to snap to break you out of your mesmerized stare, but he grinned devilishly, full of pride when he realized the stunning effect his words had had on you. God, you could get used to seeing that smile again every day.

Joseph's voice was sharp, "Hey, lovebirds, I don't mean to be rude, but how do I fit into all of this? Because of the three of us I'm easily the weak link, ya know? The easy target. If they find out I'm with the two of you..."

"You're fucked." You said grimly. 

"One step at a time. Let's just find a place to lie low for a day or two before we figure anything else out. Deal?" Lucifer looked expectantly at you.

You shrugged, "That sounds fine. Don't forget that we're on the run, though. No going anywhere unnesecarily, blindly, or alone. Hunter rules." 

The men nodded, accepting your judgement. Satisfied, you laid back down on your angel's lap and encouraged him to caress you, drifting off as he did just that. 

 

 

 

"...trust me. Two."

The voice of your beautiful angel drifted past your ear. Too groggy to really piece together the conversation and too worn out to open your eyes, you snuggled deeper into his lap.

"You sure? When it comes down to it we'd probably all be safer in one room. And, I mean, I want to keep an eye on her, ya know?"

"Joseph, I need to be alone with her tonight. Tomorrow she's all yours, OK?"

"Oh, uh, yeah...alright. So. Expenses. If we keep heading north there'll be a few more......"

Darkness tugged at the edges of your conscience. You drifted off once again...

 

 

"Here!"

The exclamation jumped you awake. On the alert, you spied out the front windshield and spotted the elegantly compact architecture of what could only be a four or five star hotel. 

You yawned, "Damn. Hiding out in style?"

"You deserve it." Both men assured you at once. A smile crept onto your lips as they laughed. Despite their differences, the two got along better than you'd ever imagined they would.

"Let me guess, five star luxury resort?" You quipped.

Your brother sneered, " _Four_ star resort--but it has its own golf course!"

You rolled your eyes, "Oh, golf? Why didn't you say so? The game of every hunter's dream!"

"Shut up and help me with the bags."

You and Lucifer chuckled, hopping out of your seats and shuffling over to the already popped trunk. The winter wind bit at your exposed arms (er, arm? Arm and a half?) for a short few seconds before your sweet angel pulled a blanket from the trunk and wrapped it around your shoulders. He then grabbed your bag, offered it to your good hand, and kissed you on the cheek.

Once everyone had their respective luggage and you were sure the car was secure, Joseph led you through the glass doors and up to the front desk of the resort.

You tuned out his conversation with the clerk and darted your eyes around the room. The things that particularly stood out were the ornate chandelier, the un-stained white sofa, and the man sittin upon it. Though his back was turned to you and only his shaggy head of hair rung the least bit familiar, you might have sworn you'd met him before somewhere.

"Thank you." Joseph smiled at the person attending and politely declined help with what little baggage you had.

You and Lucifer followed closely behind your twin. He led you up two sets of stairs and halfway down a hallway before passing a card key to each of you, "These are for your room. I'm right across the hall just in case."

You followed to where he pointed with yours eyes. Your brow furrowed, "Wouldn't you rather be in a room with us?"

He hesitantly opened his mouth to answer, but Lucifer saved him, "I asked if he could get us a room to ourselves."

You weren't quite sure what it was, perhaps the way he'd worded it, but something about what he said didn't sit right with you. 

Nonetheless, you turned to Joseph, "Alright. Well maybe later we can all call room service? Have a big fancy dinner in the big fancy resort?"

"Deal." He grinned. You smiled back, content with the low maintenance plans.

"See you tonight, then." Your angel waved to your brother behind his back as he struggled with the keycard.

You approached the door, took it from him, and swiped it the correct way on your first try. He scoffed, annoyed, and followed you into the room.

The first thing to catch your eye was the beautiful queen-sized bed adorned with vibrant red sheets. The walls were some sort of Chinese dragon patterned wallpaper and the gold blackout curtains blocked what little sunlight remained on the horizon. A soft, thick blood red carpet wen wall to wall, pausing only at each of the three closed off doorways.

"It's beautiful." You stated dreamily.

Bag and blanket forgotten, you explored the closed doors to find a good-sized bathroom, a walk-in closet, and an entire room dedicated to a jacuzzi. 

Overall excited about the place, even if you'd only be staying a day or two, you smirked despite yourself, "They may have overdone it a bit with the red...but I could live here."

Your angel gave a half-hearted huff of a laugh from the other end of the bed. He stared at the far wall.

Stomach twisting in concern, you climbed across the mattress and turned him to face you, "Hey, something up?"

He looked you straight in the eyes and spoke with absolute assurance, "I'm in love with you."

You couldn't help the way you jaw dropped or your heart stopped. But then, when it moved again, you could swear it was swelling with untold passion and emotion. You closed your mouth and swallowed but, to your great irritation, your voice still broke, "You...what?"

"I. Am. In. Love. With. You." His brow was set in confidence and his eyes wet with emotion. He grabbed at your shoulders, careful not to press too hard on the fucked up one, and said something you weren't sure you'd ever hear, especially not from the Devil himself, "(y/n), you mean the world to me. When you disappeared I realized I'd do anything for you. I woke up every morning trying to put my arm around you then--" his voice shook,"and then I'd remember and I'd lose hope all over again. All I wanted when you were gone was to go back in time just to tell you three fucking words because I thought I'd lost my chance and I really, _really_ don't want to lose it again, so....I love you, (y/n)."

The twin tears that swelled in his eyes and rolled down his face got you choked up. He frowned and wiped them away hastily, but before he could touch his eyes you grabbed his wrist to keep him from doing so and brought a soft kiss to his lips.

It was something you'd known for a long time, you realized, even before the words left your red lips,  "I love you too, angel."

You expected him to smile or at least smirk, but his expression remained unreadably stoic. And before you knew it he had you pinned down, kisses touching all along your neck and chest. You giggled when he touched the particularly sensitive spot where your collarbones met. Even before you felt his devious grin on your skin you knew you'd given him the idea to tickle you. 

His long fingers travelled from your neck to your belly, careful not to disturb your slinged arm, along your legs and all the way to your feet. Wrapped in the dopamine-flooding sensation it took all of your self control not to give into your instinct and kick him in the face.

When he finally relented you stole the opportunity to wrestle him onto his back. Straddling him, you found, seemed almost too natural.

You stared down at him, smiling triumphant. He eyed the way you pinned his arms with that glint in his eye and that smirk on his attractive features, "Funny, I always pictured myself as the one on top."

You fought against the torrent of pink on your cheeks, which he must have adored. You weren't so embarrassed about what he'd said as you were about the accumulation between your legs, which you'd gained thanks to imagining him imagining the two of you having sex. It annoyed you how hot and bothered that made you...but it excited you just as much.

"You been imagining anything else?" You raised a brow and attempted an air of casualty.

He grinned knowingly, "Nah, just you. You know, your hair, your face," he relinquished an arm from your hold to brush the back of his hand along your jaw. You licked your lips. He continued, caressing your thigh, "your legs....everything inbetween..."

Lucifer was doing nothing to hide the wanton lust in his gaze and, Lord save you, you _loved_ it.

You would have loved it in more ways than one had a disturbingly loud _thud_ not sounded from across the hall.

Both of you glanced at the door and then back at each other, faces shrouded in confusion and concern.

"I'm sure he's fine--" Lucifer concluded, halting when you pushed yourself off his hips and off the bed, "(y/n)!"

 _It can't hurt to check on him_ , you said to yourself instead of out loud for some reason. The graceless angel was at you side by the time you pulled the heavy door open.

Joseph's door was cracked ajar. A wave of pure dread washed through you. Without hesitation, you bounded across the hall in a second, deaf to Lucifer's warnings to be careful.

At first it all seemed fine. Similar shades of red drenched the walls and the floor, but it wasn't until your foot found itself in a puddle of camouflaged liquid that you used your good hand to reach for the pistol on your side, another wash of deep-seated, and now justified, fear finding its way to you. 

You had to squint to see the thick trail of blood drowning the carpet. It led you across the room, around the bed, and to another doorway left open. Heart quickening, you cocked the loaded weapon and raised it to your chest, licking the door open with your foot.

You froze. Your head pounded and it took every ounce of self control you had not to scream in agony.

Because Joseph's bloody, severed head stared back at you from the other end of the jacuzzi.


End file.
